


Harry Potter and the Curse-Breaker's Code

by Lunas_Secret_Lover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Astoria - Freeform, Drarry, Fluff, Gay, Homosexuality, M/M, Porn With Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunas_Secret_Lover/pseuds/Lunas_Secret_Lover
Summary: Auror Harry Potter is bored with his life of paperwork and monotony when he is given an opportunity to apprehend a possible dark wizard in Egypt.  Leaping at the chance, he must learn how to work with curse-breakers, Sphinxes, and perhaps worst of all, Draco Malfoy in order to complete his mission successfully.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter sighed as he looked out the fake window of his cubicle.  It was raining outside today.  The skies were grey and forlorn.  Harry hoped that didn’t have something to do with his mood.  Or, if it did, that no one else was affected by it.  He looked at the large stack of interdepartmental memos in front of him glumly.  They were grey too, and he knew he would have to deal with at least a few of them before heading home.  He looked at the top one.

 

_ Harry- _

_ I need you to be prepared to give a statement on the detainment of Arsikov.  I know you weren’t directly involved, but the public will react more favorably if the news of his death  comes from your mouth. _

_ K.S. _

 

The death eater had been wounded by a few aurors during his capture, and although Harry couldn’t say for certain, he thought that they had probably done it purposefully.  Arsikov had committed a few particularly nasty crimes against women and children, and many wizards wanted him dead.  The man had died later in Azkaban, and now it was apparently up to Harry to justify the use of force against him.  Not that most of the public would mind that he had died, with any luck.  He sent an affirmative reply to Kingsley and picked up the next memo.

  
  


_ Mr. Potter- _

_ One of my curse-breakers has discovered a strange new string of runes in Egypt that look to be the work of a dark witch or wizard unknown.  We are not sure if this situation has been dealt with properly by Egyptian authorities or not, but while we work with their government, we have permission to send a small team of aurors and curse-breakers to unofficially investigate further.  I realize that this is outside the scope of your normal duties, but Head Auror White has spoken very highly of you and recommended you for this position.  As it is not official ministry business, you have the option of choosing whether or not to go.  It is expected that you will be in Egypt for no less than a month, working with two curse-breakers and an Egyptian expert in ancient runes.  Give me word within the next two days if you are interested. _

  1. _L. Craftford_



_ Head of Curse Breaking and Neutralization Office _

_ Order of Merlin Second Class _

 

Harry’s heart leapt with excitement for a moment.  Here was finally an opportunity to go out into the world and do the things he had dreamed of doing when he became an auror.  The things he was GOOD at.  Actually fighting dark wizards, and solving mysteries, instead of sitting at his desk doing paperwork, or following half-leads to death eaters that ended up being false trails.  In Egypt, which was one of the most exciting places in the magical community.  Then his heart fell.  Ginny wouldn’t want him to go.  And things had already been a bit rocky the past few months.  Harry knew that his girlfriend was expecting him to propose soon.  They had been together for six years after all, and with Ron and Hermione getting married last year she had been getting particularly anxious to tie the knot.  He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t want to.  His relationship with Ginny was stable.  She was pretty, and he loved her family.  He loved Ginny too, of course, but both of them had explosive tempers, and Ginny was too stubborn to ever let him win a fight, so he had begun to hide things from her.  Little things, of course, about why he was unhappy.  

 

They hadn’t had sex in over six months, and honestly, Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep with her ever again.  He still wanted to be having sex, just, not with Ginny.  Sometimes he stayed up all night agonizing about their relationship, and whether he should end things, or marry her, or if he had any other options, and he still wasn’t sure what the right choice was.  But he knew that if he left for a month, Ginny might not stay around long enough for him to decide.  Nevertheless.  He might not get another opportunity like this for years.  Every piece of his heart was begging him to take it, to escape from the monotony that was suffocating him, even if it was only for a month.  Harry took a deep breath, and penned a letter back to Craftford accepting the assignment.  

 

As soon as he sent the memo on its way, Harry felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.  He found himself looking forward to the future in a way he hadn’t in a long time.  The rest of the memos and paperwork flew by quickly, and even the sky looked a little brighter.  Craftford came down to his office as he was preparing to leave, a large smile on his round face.  The older man cast a few charms around the cubicle to keep eavesdroppers away and then turned to Harry.

 

“Mr. Potter! I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.  I’m Roger Craftford, head of the Curse-Breaking office.”  The portly man extended his hand to Harry, and Harry felt himself grinning back.

 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve decided to go to Egypt.  I know that with all of your experience you’ll be excellent.”

 

“I’m honored that you considered me, sir.”  Craftford waved his hand dismissively, as if it was ridiculous that the Chosen One would be honored at anything he had to say.

 

“Now, I’ll want you to leave on Monday to go join the team that’s already in Egypt.  I’ll arrange a portkey for you.  This is a very discrete mission, you understand?  The Egyptian government wants this dealt with quietly so there is no panic.  We’ll need to arrange for some polyjuice potion for you and the others, to change identities as often as possible.  We have a young man who has made some strides in speeding up the process considerably.  He’s damn talented with most potion making, really.  I’m sending him with you, in case anyone needs a healer or if there are any problems with the other potions you’re bringing along.  I think you two know each other.  Draco Malfoy?”

 

Harry nodded, and felt his heart leap unexpectedly.  He and Malfoy had been on cordial terms since the end of the war.  They said hello to each other in the lifts and made comments about the weather.  Somehow, now that they worked together, it was possible to forget that they had hated each other for years.  That Malfoy had been a Death Eater.  That they had saved each others’ lives.  Now the two of them could just peacefully coexist, not getting too close, working in the same building but never the same department.  Harry almost missed Malfoy’s constant animosity.  It would be interesting, at the very least, to work with him more closely.

 

“Anyways, he will be joining you on Monday to travel to Egypt.  I will send you a memo with the specifics of what you should bring, but I just wanted to introduce myself and give you a short briefing now.  It seems very clear to my curse-breaker out there that this is the work of dark magic.  I hope you lot will be able to take care of it before this gets out of control.  Have a good weekend, Mr. Potter, I’ll be in touch.”

 

Harry stared after his retreating back, wondering if the other man had even noticed that he hadn’t let Harry get in more than a few words.  He shook his head and grabbed his coat to leave.  Ron gave him a miserable wave on his way out.  The piles on Ron’s desk seemed to be right on the verge of tipping over and he would clearly be there for a while longer. 

 

On impulse, Harry decided to stop by Hermione’s office in the Regulation of Magical Creatures’ Department.  Hermione was the only person he could talk to about the Ginny situation, since Ron was her brother, and he figured Hermione would know the best way to break the news about him leaving.  Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the dung of many magical creatures, he made his way to the back of the department offices to find Hermione scribbling furiously away at her desk.  She was one of three people that he could see still working.  Harry knocked at her open door tentatively, and Hermione jumped half a foot in the air, spilling her ink all over herself.

 

“Merlin’s Beard, Harry, just because you’re an auror doesn’t mean you have to move so quietly! Help me clean this mess up.” 

 

_ “Scorgify,”  _ they said in unison, and the ink disappeared from Hermione’s robes, seeming to be sucked into their wands.

 

“Sorry,” Harry said.  “What are you working on?”

 

“It’s a new proposal for the rights of house elves in Great Britain.  I need to have legal look it over before I bring it to the Wizengamot, though.  It’s really very shoddy right now.  I haven’t had much time with it, what with everything else going on.  How are you? Ron says you lot have been up to your noses in work since Arsikov.”

 

“The minister seems to be punishing all of us for that mess with filing proper paperwork,” Harry said with a grimace.  “Aurors really aren’t meant for paperwork.”

 

“Is that why you decided to go to Egypt?”  Harry stared at her in shock.

 

“What?”

 

Hermione folded her arms.  “Honestly, Harry, you should have thought this through better.  They sent someone to talk to Ginny about it already, so you wouldn’t accidentally give away confidential information.  She flooed me earlier.  She seemed pretty distraught.”

 

“Damn.  Alright,” Harry said, lies of being ordered to visit Egypt for work vanishing from his mind faster than the ink had left Hermione’s robes. “Why did she floo you and not me?”

 

Hermione sighed.  “Harry.  With all of the fighting you two have been doing lately she’s on eggshells.  She didn’t want to upset you or push you over the edge to breaking up with her or seem controlling.”

 

Harry felt a familiar twinge of guilt at the thought of Ginny grip his mind for a moment.  “Well what does she expect me to do?”

 

“She expects you to love her, which you don’t.” Hermione’s voice was level and sympathetic as she laid a hand on Harry’s.  “You KNOW you don’t, Harry.  Why do you keep torturing both of you like this?”

 

“I do love her, in a way, Hermione.  What am I supposed to do?”

 

“You need to end things.”

 

Harry let out a bitter chuckle.  “Easy for you to say.  If I lose Ginny, I lose all of the Weasleys.  I lose Christmas.  I lose bloody everyone who I care about, who will see me as the heartless bastard who broke her heart.  Not to mention the media.  Merlin, they’ll have a field day with this.”

 

“Harry,” Hermione said sternly.  “You need to end this.  Now.”

 

“Oh, bloody hell.  I suppose right before I leave for a month is a good a time as any.  Come get a drink or eight with me.”

 

“Ok, just give me a moment.”  Hermione waved her wand gracefully, setting her desk in order and they walked out of the ministry.  “You need to stop talking to Ron.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“You said ‘bloody’ about five times in there.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A few hours later, Harry was feeling full of liquid courage and far less nervous at the idea of breaking up with Ginny.  He and Hermione had rehearsed a whole breakup speech at the bar, and Harry repeated it to himself over and over as he fumbled with his keys and somehow made it into their flat.

 

“Harry? Is that you?”  A red head poked up from the couch pillows and Harry felt that pang of guilt again.  Clearly she had been waiting up for him, and rather than going home to speak to her immediately, he had gone out drinking, unable to even do her the courtesy of breaking up with her sober.  Some Gryffindor. 

 

“Yeah, ‘lo Ginny.”  She stood up to greet him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on him, or, rather, trying to.  Harry awkwardly turned his head to the side, arms coming up to gently push Ginny’s arms away.  “Look, ah, we need to talk.”

 

Ginny backed away from him, a hard expression on her face.  “You’re going to Egypt for a month.  Yes.  The ministry told me.”

 

“Yeah, and also-”

 

“I want to come with you, Harry.”

 

“You- what?” Two sentences in, and already Harry’s prepared speech was destroyed.

 

“I want to come with you.  I figure that if we really love each other, we shouldn’t be apart for a month.  And I’m good with hexes.  I could end up being useful.”

 

Harry ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it from the roots.  “Ginny, I don’t want-”

 

“I won’t be a burden.  I promise.  I can handle myself.”

 

“Ginny, no one is saying you can’t handle yourself.”

 

“Then why can’t I go with you?”

 

Harry sighed, leading her to sit down on the couch.  “Gin, you know I love you.  I really do.  But this isn’t working.  We aren’t good for each other.  I think that this relationship is making us both miserable… and shit.”  Forgetting the end of the line, he improvised.

 

“I’ve got to do what’s best for both of us.  And put a finish to this relationship.”  Harry could feel his words slur together, and took a gulp of air to stave off the buzz he was feeling.

 

“Harry, are you breaking up with me?” Ginny asked incredulously.  Harry watched miserably as the recognition dawned on her face, and she suddenly looked as though she’d been punched.  “Why?”

 

“I’m not happy.”

 

“But.  I love you.”  Ginny appeared to be in a state of shock, but true to her nature she looked far from crying.  “Are you gay, Harry? I’ve always wondered.  I know you say you’re bisexual, but-”

 

“I’m not gay, Gin,” Harry said angrily.  “This isn’t about that.  We don’t make each other happy.  You don’t make me happy.”

 

“Fine,” Ginny said crossing her arms.  “Then get out of my flat.”

 

“This is OUR flat, Ginny, I’m on the lease-”

 

“If you don’t get out of my flat in the next ten minutes, I will call the Prophet and tell them you’re gay.”

 

Harry stared at her, shocked that she would stoop so low. Her voice more gentle, Ginny continued, “I don’t know what your issues are, Potter, but I don’t want to have to stand here watching you figure them out after you leave me.  I need you to leave tonight so I can process this.”  She turned away, long red hair fluttering behind her as she walked into their bedroom and closed the door.  For a moment, Harry almost thought he heard a sob.  

 

He hurriedly threw his most important belongings into a bag and left, stumbling down the streets aimlessly as he thought of where he should go.  Grimmauld place was filled with aurors from out of the country for now, while the ministry rebuilt a safe house that had been destroyed by a dragon a few weeks ago.  Ron and Hermione’s wasn’t an option either, in this case.  Unwilling to bother any of his friends so late, Harry decided his best bet was to spend the night at his desk, and rent a hotel room for the next few nights.  He apparated to the ministry, feeling lucky to have made it in one piece in his state.  Drinking and apparition were frowned upon, especially for an auror.  

 

“Potter?”  Harry turned around in surprise, gripping his wand out of habit. 

 

“Malfoy? Whateryou still doing here? It’s two in the morning!”

 

“Finishing up a potion.  A very time delicate one.” Malfoy surveyed Harry’s disarrayed state and sniffed haughtily.  “What happened to you, Potter? You smell like a cheap whorehouse.”

 

“Had a few drinks,” he muttered, trying unsuccessfully to smooth his robes and hair.

 

“I’ll floo your Weasley, have her come take you home,” Malfoy said, uncharacteristically generous.

 

“Broke up!” Harry managed to get out.  “I-err, broke up with her.  I’m going to sleep here.”

 

“Ah,” Malfoy said impassively.  “Well you’re coming to sleep at my manor, then.  I don’t want to get sacked for letting the Famous Harry Potter sleep at a desk.”

 

“No, no,” Harry protested unconvincingly as the blond man grabbed his arm.  In his inebriated state, Draco Malfoy’s touch felt like lightning running through his arm.  Harry looked up at him, suddenly noticing how strong he was, and how soft his blonde hair looked when it was slicked back like that.  He opened his mouth to say something, but then he was being apparated, and his guts were compressed and twisted until he couldn’t handle it.

 

“Gunna be sick,” he said, and Draco leaped out of the way looking green as Harry threw up into his rose bushes.  Malfoy vanished the vomit looking irritated, but his mouth curled into a sneer as he turned back to Harry.  

 

“Good lord, Potter, did no one ever teach you how to hold your liquor? You’re like a first year having his first butterbeer.”

 

“I can handle it, Malfoy,” Harry protested angrily.  “I drank more than you could handle in a month tonight.”

 

“TWO butterbeers?” Malfoy asked in fake astonishment. 

 

“Shove off.”

  
“Get your drunk arse inside.  I expect you to make sure you haven’t killed any roses in the morning.  The gardener doesn’t come until Tuesday.”  Harry leaned on Malfoy slightly as they headed for a guest room, muttering curses and insults at his childhood enemy as he did so.  Malfoy pointedly ignored him, dumping him onto the bed unceremoniously and leaving, shutting the door after him.  Harry stared at the ceiling of the room, waiting for that guilt to hit him again but it didn’t.  He had ended the guilt, and somehow, after all of the drama of the day he felt free.  


	2. Horemheb's Tomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been edited. Forgot to copy paste the last half!

Harry awoke the next morning to a pounding head and an upset stomach. Groaning he opened his eyes and had a moment of sick surprise while he realized he wasn’t in his own room. He frowned warily as he remembered where he was. The room was small but elegant, with gray walls and a black bedpost and dresser engraved with patterns deep into the wood. There was a note for him on the bedside table, along with a blue, vile looking potion that Harry had never seen before. He read it hurriedly, his head aching with every letter.

 

Potter-  
I have been developing a potion to cure hangovers. Astoria ordered me to send some up and I suggest you drink it. Your bloody friends sent about four owls last night, and they refused to go to the owlry like normal birds, so you may find the letters they so kindly dropped right at my window on the dresser. I have a prior engagement this morning, but Astoria should be around with a friend of hers if you require anything. She insists that you stay here until we leave for Egypt, so of course you may if you choose. You may pay us back by fixing the bushes out front.   
D. M.

 

Harry frowned, unsure how to feel about the generosity of his school-day enemy. Perhaps Malfoy had been softened by Astoria. Shrugging to himself, he drank the blue potion, feeling an almost instant relief, and deep gratitude towards Malfoy. Grabbing the letters, he tore through them quickly. A wave of anxiety hit him when he realized that they were from Ron and Hermione, wondering what happened. Ron’s seemed very cross and Harry said a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn’t been a howler. The last letter was from Ginny, written in a flowing script. She had asked him to stop by and retrieve the last of his things. He sighed to himself and tried in vain to make his hair appear neater and straighten his robes. Figuring he had better go and get it over with before he mulled it over in his mind for too long, he headed out of his room. He had overestimated his ability to navigate a huge manor, however, and before long he found himself lost down one of the many corridors. Cursing himself, and social norms that wouldn’t allow him to apparate directly from someone’s home, he leaned against a wall in frustration.

 

Harry heard laughter to his right, and decided his best bet would be to follow the sounds of human activity. He made his way into a small dining room where two women were chatting over breakfast. He frowned in consternation when he realized that they were holding hands, but figured that women did that with their friends as he recognized Astoria Greengrass. She smiled in welcome, with kind eyes. 

 

“Good morning, Mr. Potter. I don’t know that we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Astoria Malfoy.” She extended her hand, and Harry shook it firmly, wondering how Draco Malfoy had ever ended up with a woman who seemed his opposite in terms of civility.

 

“Please, call me Harry.”

 

“Harry, then,” she said warmly. “This is my friend Ariadne.” 

 

The other woman, a pretty red-head with a wary expression on her face, nodded to Harry slightly, all traces of laughter gone from her face. He nodded back.

 

“I’m terribly sorry about last night. That’s not like me. Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope you’ll give Mal-err, Draco, my best as well.”

 

“You’re not leaving, are you? Draco said that you were going to sleep in your office.” Astoria’s glance was slightly accusing. “We have a lovely, large home, and you are welcome to stay here for a few days. Especially since Draco and you are going to the same place on Monday.”

 

Harry sighed, looking to Ariadne for help, but the woman seemed disinterested in the conversation. Instead, she was suddenly engrossed in dissecting an orange.

 

“I couldn’t trespass on your hospitality any longer,” Harry said helplessly, uncomfortable with the idea of staying with Draco Malfoy.

 

“Nonsense, it’s not trespassing at all. You’re staying here and that’s final.” Miserably, Harry thanked her, unable to think of another excuse to refuse.

 

“Err, is there a door you prefer me to take to get outside?”

 

“The manor can be very confusing,” Astoria said sympathetically. “I’ll have Stormy show you out, if you promise to return.” The tiniest house elf Harry had ever seen appeared behind her mistress with a broad grin at Harry. She led him to the front door, through what seemed like an endless maze of twists and turns, her little hand clinging to Harry’s as if to insure Harry wouldn’t get lost.

 

“Mr. Harry Potter,” she said, staring up at him in adoration. “Stormy has heard you are a great friend to house elves. Miss Astoria is a great friend to house elves too.”

 

“Is she? Do you enjoy working here?” Harry surveyed Stormy more closely and was surprised to notice that she was dressed entirely in normal clothes. “Are you a free elf?”

 

“Stormy was born a free elf, sir! Stormy’s parents served the Malfoy family and Miss Astoria freed them when she moved in. Stormy’s father died of shock, and mother does not like to be freed, sir, so Master Draco told her she would still serve the Malfoy family name. Stormy has always liked living here.”

 

Harry frowned a little. Clearly Astoria had had a huge impact on the way the Malfoy household was run. He wondered how Malfoy felt about that. 

 

“Well that’s great, Stormy. It was nice to meet you.”

 

“It was an honor to meet the Great Harry Potter, sir,” she said with a low bow as she scampered off back into the house. Harry watched her go in confusion. Shaking himself out of it, he wandered down the path of the front garden, glancing at the massive trimmed bushes as he did for any potential damage. Not seeing any, he sighed with relief and steeled his nerves to face Ginny. He apparated a little ways from their flat, and melancholily trod to the door.

 

Ginny answered almost immediately. She looked immaculate this morning, with her hair neatly done and her eyes entirely dry. Harry couldn’t help but feel a small stir of desire as he looked at her low cut blouse.

 

“Harry,” she said calmly, glancing at him up and down. “You look awful. Where did you stay last night.”

 

“Malfoy’s,” he replied with a grimace. “It’s a long story.” Ginny raised a well manicured eyebrow.

 

“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I hope you know I didn’t mean it.” Ginny looked apologetically at him. “I was angry and surprised. I’d never tell the prophet you were gay.”

 

“I’m sorry too,” Harry admitted guiltily. “I was a drunken mess, and I should have handled it better.” She stared at him for a long minute, then moved to let him inside, closing the door behind them.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

That evening, Harry returned to the Malfoy Manor feeling slightly guilty, but mostly relieved that he and Ginny had been able to part on more favorable terms. He knew it would probably be years before they were able to be friends again, and the Burrow certainly wouldn’t be welcome to him for some time, but it had been nice to see Ginny return to something resembling her former self. The night before, she had frightened him. 

 

Harry bore two bottles of fine Goblin wine for the Malfoys, as Stormy led him down the labyrinth of Hallways to a large dining hall, where Draco, Astoria and Ariadne sat. Astoria and Ariadne sat beside each other, with Draco across from them, and they all turned to look at Harry as he entered the room.

 

“Ah, our drunken hero returns,” Draco said, a shadow of his former mocking smirk on his face. Harry felt himself redden slightly.

 

“I’m sorry about last night.”

 

“No need for that,” Astoria assured him, shooting a look at her husband. “We were just about to have dinner, Harry. And I see you brought wine. Come join us.”

 

Harry reluctantly took a seat next to Malfoy who regarded him impassively. 

 

“Did you fix my bushes?” he asked seriously.

 

“Err, I looked for damage and I couldn’t find any,” Harry replied bashfully. “Thank you for bringing me here last night, Malfoy, I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused.”

 

Malfoy nodded, that almost smirk still on his face. “If I had left the Chosen One to sleep off his drunkenness in his office, the Prophet would make me out to be the worst villain since Voldemort.”

 

Harry grinned in spite of himself. “Well, with hair like that, who would blame them?” Draco scowled a little, but Astoria laughed, so Harry figured his jibe hadn’t been too terrible.

 

“Draco, you really should let me fix it,” Astoria said playfully. “It looks so much better when it isn’t plastered against your head.”

 

“Yes, yes, dear,” the blond man returned. “I’m sure you think I should grow it out very long and keep it that way. Maybe I could cut it like Ariadne’s.”

 

Astoria grinned, though Ariadne looked disconcerted. “Perhaps you should. Stormy, could you pour us some wine, please? If I’m going to have any chance at persuading my husband to touch his magnificent hair I’ll have to have him drunk.”

 

Harry found himself enjoying the company of his hosts during dinner, although it could have just been the wine. Astoria and Malfoy sent good-natured barbs each other, and although Ariadne stayed rather shy, she smiled at the particularly good ones. Malfoy didn’t try to antagonize him, he mostly just ignored him, really, and Harry happily accepted the circumstances. They were all several glasses of wine in, at this point, and Astoria seemed quite drunk. Her silver eyes were sparkling as she hung onto Ariadne’s arm and whispered something into the other woman’s ear. Ariadne blushed, and smiled.

 

“I’m afraid I should get her off to bed,” Ariadne said in a soft, low voice. Draco nodded to the women as they left, clinging to each other as they headed down the hallway.

 

“Do you like scotch, Potter?” Harry started as he was addressed, looking at Malfoy in surprise.

 

“Err-yes.”

 

“Excellent. I need something a bit stronger while we can get our hands on it. Egyptian wizards never developed a taste for scotch.” He gestured to Stormy, and led Harry into a more comfortable study, taking a seat in an armchair. 

 

“You promise that if I give you scotch we won’t have a repeat of last night, right?” Malfoy asked, with something almost like humor on his face. Harry chuckled slightly.

 

“It takes more than a few glasses of wine and scotch to get me to the point I was at last night,” Harry said, seriously. “I guarantee that your bushes are safe from me.”

 

“Right, right. So what did it take to get you to the point you were at last night, Potter?” Draco poured a generous amount of amber liquid into both of their glasses.

 

Harry thought about it for a moment, taking a small sip of the scotch, which was excellent. “Well, I was with Hermione Granger. I had a few pints with her. And a few shots of firewhiskey. Then she left and I had four more shots, for courage, which I think had all hit me very hard by the time you accosted me at the ministry.”

 

“Some Gryffindor you are,” Malfoy said, but there was a genuine smile on his face. Harry couldn’t help but find him tantalizingly attractive when he smiled.

 

“I know,” Harry muttered shamefully. “But I thought if I did it sober she’d hex me.”

 

“Weasley was always dangerous with hexes,” Malfoy remarked thoughtfully. “I was on the receiving end of those more than once. If you ask me, it’s better to avoid gingers all together. Reactionary hot-heads, the lot of them. I told Astoria that too, but does she listen? Never.”

 

“Astoria?” Harry asked questioningly, before it all fell into place. He cursed himself for being such an idiot. “You mean Ariadne and her? Are- what, together?”

 

Draco smiled sardonically at his reaction. “You must understand, Potter, that pureblood marriages aren’t like most marriages. We married for our parents, and for an heir or two. Astoria is as much of a dyke as they come, and I knew that going into this. Not that I thought she’d ever fall for a mudblood.”

Seeing Harry’s face darken, Draco sighed dramatically. “Sorry. Old habits. She hid Ariadne during the war, you know. Which is, I suppose, the greatest way to blackmail someone into loving you.”

 

“Do you see anyone else?” Harry asked curiously. 

 

“For a night sometimes,” he drawled. “I don’t do the romantic bullshit my darling wife finds so necessary.” Harry grinned, thinking of the women Draco must bed. He wondered if it was strange for the other man to live with a pair of women who didn’t care for him as more than a prop. Perhaps one night stands were necessary to keep him sane.

 

“I’m tempted to go back to that myself,” he admitted, drinking more of his scotch. Draco met his eyes, and gave him a grin. Harry’s heart fluttered, and he had to remind himself that the man in front of him was still Draco Malfoy, former death eater and his school enemy. And most definitely, Draco was straight.

 

“Well be sure to keep a close record of the women you fuck, Potter. I don’t want your sloppy seconds.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sunday was uneventful and passed too quickly. Harry spent most of the day talking with Ariadne, while Draco and Astoria were out of the house doing who knows what, and eating the homemade cauldron cakes she and Astoria had made. Surprisingly, the reticent woman was an excellent conversationalist, and had lived an incredibly interesting life before coming to live at the Malfoy Manor. Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to believe the parts of her story about the vampires that assisted her in hiding from the Ministry during Voldemort’s reign, but the way she spoke of it made him give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially when she showed him the scars that crisscrossed her torso compliments of Fenrir Greyback. Harry was quite sad to be leaving the next day when he retreated to his rooms.

 

Draco still hadn’t returned by the time he’d gone to bed, and Harry wondered if that was a normal occurrence in this strange house. It must be a strange kind of freedom to know that your wife didn’t expect you home at an early hour, and that you were expected to be screwing your secretary, Harry thought, imagining Ginny’s reaction if he were to stay out all night without telling her where he was. 

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew he was being poked awake by an irritated Draco Malfoy.

 

“Potter, get up.” Malfoy was prodding at him gingerly as if he had a contagious skin disease. “We have to catch the portkey in an hour, and if you make us miss it, I swear to Merlin-”

 

“Mm up, I promise,” Harry muttered, grabbing his glasses as he blearily looked up at his tormentor. “What the hell are you doing in my room, Malfoy?” he asked reflexively, grabbing for his wand. Malfoy gave him a glare as if he were far too stupid to be alive, and stalked out the door.

 

“It’s my bloody room, Potter, they’re all my rooms.”

 

Harry recognized his mistake as he struggled to reach full consciousness, making a mental note to apologize later. He quickly grabbed his bags and got dressed; knowing Malfoy, he’d leave Harry behind to find the portkey entirely on his own if given a reason to do so. He stumbled out of his room and cursed to himself trying to find the front door. Luckily, Ariadne appeared, and like her namesake, led him out of the mazes of her home. She embraced him warmly and wished him well, although Harry could see Draco staring at him with impatient contempt over her shoulder. He hurriedly caught up to the blond who was ignoring them as they walked down the street.

 

“What time is it?” Harry asked, trying to keep his eyes open.

 

“Quarter to three,” Malfoy answered with a glare. “Ministry wanted us to avoid the muggles. And your hopeless fan club. Also if we arrive early enough we can save on polyjuice potion.”

 

Harry found himself almost tripping in the dim wand light, and decided to focus on the path in front of him instead of interrogating the already irate man beside him. He caught Draco smirking at his stumble and scowled. Eventually they reached a neon pink frisbee sticking out of a hill.

 

“That must be it,” Harry said. Draco nodded and picked it up.

 

“We’re barely on time,” Malfoy said, giving his watch a relieved sigh. “Grab hold unless you want to stay here, Potter.” Harry grabbed onto the old muggle object moments before it whizzed them away unpleasantly. He felt a rush of warm air as he landed on the ground with a loud thud, and was relieved to see Malfoy quickly picking himself up and dusting his robes. He did the same as he surveyed their surroundings open-mouthed. They had arrived in what appeared to be the Valley of the Kings and Harry had never seen anything so magnificent. A massive rock face erupted from the sandy landscape in front of him, carved by the currents of the Nile river. The sheer massiveness of it struck Harry to his core. There were a few people milling about, despite the early hour, who seemed as awestruck as Harry. He noted what appeared to be a group of witches, or eccentric muggle women, doing some form of meditation at the closest tomb to him, sitting on the steps of the entrance and chanting in latin. Draco appeared far less enthused.

 

“The moment bloody inter-continental apparition becomes legal, I am never using one of those things again.” He looked a bit off color, Harry thought, although that could be the brightness of the morning sunlight hitting his pale skin. “And it’s far too hot already. Let’s get inside.” 

 

Malfoy gestured to a nearby tomb impatiently, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Harry frowned a little as he followed him, wondering why the Head of Cursebreaking had explained to Malfoy what to do when they got here and not Harry. They wandered in through the cavelike entrance, and Harry was surprised when about ten feet in the corridor widened into a large room well lit by the wizards and witches inhabiting it. One of them, a larger Egyptian man turned to Malfoy and Harry, looking pleased to see them. 

 

“Ah, Auror Potter, Mister Malfoy,” he said, with the barest hint of an accent as he reached out a hand to shake Harry’s. “It is an honor to have you here.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Harry replied with a grin, firmly returning the shake. 

 

“I am Medo Said. I work in code breaking, as you say, for the Egyptian government. This is Fatima Almasi. She is very knowledgeable in runes.” Medo gestured towards a pretty woman whose hair was covered by a hijab, and Harry reached out to shake her hand, but Malfoy pushed his arm back with a warning glance. The blond man inclined his head at her politely, a gesture she returned with a smile. 

 

“And this is her cousin Haroon. He mostly becomes in the way.” A man on the floor waved at them with a fake glare at Medo.

 

“I am the auror from the Egyptian team,” he clarified, rolling his eyes at the larger man. “The American is expected to arrive shortly. Welcome to Egypt, my friends. Have you been here before?” 

 

“Yes. I came here for the Christmas holidays while I was in school,” Draco said. “Mostly Cairo, though.”

 

“Ah, Cairo is beautiful. Valley of the Kings is beautiful too. Both should be seen. We shall wait for the American to come before explaining what we found. But if you like, you may look in the first rooms of this tomb. A great Pharaoh named Horemheb is enshrined here. Obviously the magical protections hide most of the rooms, but there is much to see in the first few rooms, if you would like.” Draco looked interested, so they headed into the next room. Haroon looking eager to have an audience followed them. 

 

“This is the antechamber. You can see on the walls Nut and Horus, as well as many other ancient Egyptian Gods. Horemheb was a devotee of Horus in particular. And he was a great warrior as you can see depicted here.” Harry tried to look engaged. This was better than a history lecture by Professor Binns, after all, but his mind was so used to ignoring history class that he had a difficult time focusing.

 

“He came to power as a commoner, and the first wizard in his family. He was a great general for Tutankhamun and Ay, as you can see depicted here. Excellent wizard,” Haroon said proudly. “A shame his bloodline ended with him.” Harry stared at the paintings, admiring the preservation of them after so long. Haroon raised his wand and gestured them into the next room.

 

“This is a fake room or a trap room. For muggles and graverobbers. The walls are not quite finished, although part of the Book of Gates is written on them. Behind the paintings of the gates is the real tomb. Which I promise to show you.” Harry glanced at Malfoy, hoping for a companion to share his boredom with, but Malfoy appeared enthralled, and had no insulting comments to give. “The fake burial chamber was found with the remains of several women in it. No one is sure why. Perhaps the Nobles did not want to take the time to create their own tombs. Too lazy.”

 

Haroon led them all around the tomb, including a particularly difficult section of stairs that appeared on the verge of crumbling, explaining the different historical facts enthusiastically. Harry couldn’t help but think exploring the tomb would be far more exciting if he were to do it without a tour guide, and considered sneaking back in under his invisibility cloak later. After what seemed like a decade, they made their way back to the entrance where they found a woman in scarlet robes that matched her glasses waiting for them. Her brown hair was cropped short, above her ears, and she had scars on every visible patch of skin. She appeared to be in her forties, but her eyes seemed older somehow, sunken slightly into her face as though she hadn’t slept in years.

 

“Hello,” she said, brusquely reaching out her hand. “I’m Sarah Gardner. Lead Cursebreaker for the MACUSA.”

 

“Pleasure,” Draco said, with an almost charming half-smile that no one but Harry could see held a hint of mockery. 

 

“So let’s see these runes, then,” Sarah said, walking towards the antechamber as though she owned the tomb. 

 

“Before we do,” Medo said nervously, “We should explain what we found. We are trying to keep it under wraps for now, so we do not incite a panic. The runes are drawn in blood. There were seven bodies found mutilated underneath them.”

 

“Mutilated how?” Sarah asked.

 

“Their hearts were removed, dagger wounds inflicted to the chest. If you must see them, we can arrange it through a pensive.” Harry shuddered involuntarily. He wondered if the British government had been given all of the details on the case before sending a team here. He imagined not. 

 

“We left everything else in the room untouched. We are hoping that we can discover what happened. But, as you will see, not all of the runes appear decipherable, so we thought it best to bring in an expert.” He nodded towards Fatima, who looked curious, as if she had not seen the rooms behind the Gate either. Medo strode to the large painting of the gate above the remains of a sarcophagus and tapped the top of it three times, in a similar way to the entrance to Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron, Harry supposed, and the wall dissolved in front of them. He drew in a sharp breath, and felt Malfoy, Fatima and Sarah do the same, as he suddenly realized the need for international cooperation on what seemed like an internal case. The centermost symbol was the mark of the Deathly Hallows.


	3. Daylight

Sarah made a sign to ward off evil

 

Fatima spoke for the first time, her voice low and afraid. “Grindelwald’s mark.”

 

“Almost certainly,” Medo replied gravely. “This is why we did not reveal anything to our public. The kind of panic an incident like this would cause is not thinkable.”

 

“The seven killed,” Harry asked slowly. “Were they muggles or wizards?”

 

“Muggles. And all had marks of magic on them in death.”

 

“So a fanatic who idolized Grindelwald is breaking into tombs, leaving cryptic messages with the sign of a dark wizard and killing muggles. Why?” Harry asked incredulously.

 

“There may be some rite, or meaning to the runes,” Fatima said. “I will research them.”

 

“We do not know why. It could just be another Grindelwald copycat, and this could be the last we hear of it. Or it could be someone more dangerous.”

 

Harry glanced over at Malfoy. He looked as though he was going to faint. His already pale face had whitened noticeably and beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead. Harry reached out an arm to steady the other man, in case he fell, but Malfoy shrugged him off with a sneer, stepping a few feet away. 

 

“How should we proceed?” Malfoy asked, turning to Medo expectantly. 

 

“We believe that the one behind this was interrupted before he was able to complete that which he wanted to do. There was another corpse near that door, a wizard, and when our suspect was discovered, he left signs of fleeing into the catacombs that connect the tombs.”

 

“There are catacombs that connect the tombs?” Harry asked surprised. Haroon nodded.

 

“Yes, the wizard tombs. The catacombs were put in place to confuse intruders and kill them. There is a huge network of catacombs between the tombs. This is why we need curse-breakers with us. The passages are mostly unexplored and still dangerous. We have guards at every tomb known to contain passageway into the catacombs, so it is likely that our dark wizard is still inside. He might be dead by now, but we must find his body if that is the case.

 

“The first business is to track down the one that did this. Fatima will stay here and decipher the meaning of the codes and act as a liaison to our Egyptian government to let them know what is going on. The rest of us will go into the catacombs. No one is to tell anyone outside of this group about the markings or the dead muggles. Once we have apprehended the suspect, our group alone will hunt down any co-conspirators or post-mortem traps. Does anyone have a problem with this arrangement?” 

 

Harry shook his head, and saw the others do the same. Although he hadn’t known exactly what he was getting himself into, he had been in far worse situations for the sake of the wizarding community. And the thought of imminent danger was exciting after so much monotony, much to his shame. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had been afraid in the field. The lure of Egyptian perils was undeniable. 

 

“Mr. Malfoy, do you have a large enough supply of polyjuice potion for at least a week? You, Mr. Potter and I should require it for any time we are in public, or entering and exiting the catacombs. They span for hundreds of miles of twists and passages, with a few outlets to the surface, so we must be prepared for the worst. The others are not high profile enough to need it, excepting emergencies”

 

“I do,” he replied quietly. “And healing potions as well.”

 

“Excellent. I have supplies of food and water. Then we leave within the hour. Take care of any last minute needs, all of you. And steel your nerves. The catacombs of Ancient Egypt are perilous enough on their own, without a wanted criminal hiding within them.” With that, Medo strode out of the cave looking purposeful. Harry looked around at his companions, who looked as lost as he felt. Malfoy was intently studying his fingernails, while Sarah was kicking a loose rock up against the wall of the tomb. Haroon glanced around nervously, then moved to follow Medo out of the tomb. Fatima alone looked as though she knew what she was doing; she had produced a thick, old-looking book and was skimming through it rapidly, frowning at the symbols on the wall and her book.

 

“I’m going to get some air,” Harry said eventually, feeling awkward. He left the cool, cave-like rooms and stepped out into the light of day once more. The day was hot already, and Harry enjoyed the feeling of the bright sun on his skin as he let his eyes adjust. He sat against the wall of the tomb and closed his eyes, soaking up the sunshine before he lost it for as long as it would take to find the murderer. 

 

Hearing someone stepping on the rocks beside him, Harry squinted up into the sun. Malfoy took a seat next to him on the ground and smirked at him.

 

“Ready for adventure, Potter? You finally get a chance to be a hero again.” Malfoy’s tone was slightly bitter, but Harry ignored the barb.

 

“I’m ready. I do things like this every week as an auror,” he lied, hoping that Draco wouldn’t know enough about the auror office to call his bluff. Harry let his tone become more teasing as he continued. “Are you ready? Scared, Malfoy?”

 

Malfoy’s smirk broadened. “You wish. Merlin, Lockhart was a prat.”  
“Do you remember Snape nearly knocking him out with a disarming charm? I think that was the only moment where I genuinely liked him. Bloody brilliant.”

 

“Of course. You know, we never got to finish our duel. Even though you cheated I still would have won.”

 

“I cheated? You cast your first spell seconds too early!” Harry replied indignantly.

 

“All I remember is someone casting a terribly done tarantallegra that kept my legs twitching for weeks when we were told specifically to only cast disarming spells.” Malfoy’s tone was serious, but the mocking smile on his face gave him away.

 

“You bloody git,” Harry glowered, “NONE of your curses were disarming spells.”

 

“Well maybe when this is all over we can have a rematch. The famous Harry Potter against the infamous Draco Malfoy.” 

 

“Slytherin versus Gryffindor. It will be the new Grindelwald and Dumbledore battle. People will be talking about it for centuries. Especially with our daring usage of rictumsempra and tarantallegra.” Malfoy chuckled at that, and Harry glanced at him surprised. He couldn’t remember ever hearing a genuine laugh from the other man, and it was rather a nice sound.

 

“What do you suppose we’ll find in there?” Malfoy asked, glancing towards the tomb.

 

“I dunno. Sphinxes? Snakes? Mummies? A muggle-murdering madman?”

 

“There’s a reason I went into potion-crafting,” Malfoy admitted, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Unlike you bloody Gryffindors, I don’t usually love running head first into unknown peril.”

 

“Then why did you agree to come?” Harry asked curiously.

 

Malfoy grinned and all trace of vulnerability disappeared from his voice. “I always wanted to see the Chosen One get chased by a mummy.”

 

“Very funny.” Harry smiled back, ecstatic to have someone to banter with again. The cruelness that used to color their interactions appeared to be gone, or at least muted now, and it was amazing to have someone that wasn’t Ron or Hermione talk to him like this. Nearly everyone else treated him like an honored prophet or god these days, and it got old very quickly. “Where do you suppose Medo ran off to?”

 

“By the looks of him, off for a second breakfast. Maybe third.” Harry felt his stomach grumble.

 

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he noted.

 

“We would have eaten breakfast if someone hadn’t behaved like a petulant child about getting out of bed this morning.”

 

“Right,” Harry said, a bit sadly. “You don’t suppose we have time now?” Draco shrugged.

“Why not? We can apparate to the nearest populous area and grab some.”

 

“Do you know where it is?” Malfoy sighed disdainfully and rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, I do, Potter. I, for one, like to do a little research into the places I visit. We are within the bounds of the city of Luxor, and there are shopping areas all along the Nile here for tourists. If we apparate a few miles east we’re bound to find something. Let’s say, two miles east. Ah, you’d better just apparate with me so you end up in the right spot.” Harry blanched out of habit as Malfoy extended his hand, but he grasped it anyways. Again he felt a strange surge of arousal as Malfoy touched him. Their eyes met for a moment, and Harry could have sworn he saw lust in Malfoy’s grey eyes, but a moment later they were being squeezed through the fabric of time and space and he had let go of Harry’s hand. Thankfully, he didn’t try to vomit on Draco this time.

 

Sure enough, they had apparated into a rather crowded street, for the early hour, full of tourists. No one seemed to bat an eye at the fact that two men had just appeared with a loud crack, and with all the sights and sounds of the morning, there was no wonder. Harry stared wide eyed at the shops and people, entirely out of his element. Luckily, Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of a building before he could be trampled. 

 

“Right,” the blond man said. “It’s not even 7 am yet here, so I doubt much will be open.” Harry scanned the rows of shops appraisingly and noticed a few with english words. He grinned as he noticed the word “coffee” on one.

 

“Look, Malfoy, ‘Aboudi Coffee Break,” he said pointing. “‘Always Open.’ It’s perfect.”

 

“Perfect,” Draco said, pulling Harry back as he almost stepped in front of a large cart. He dragged them into an alley between two buildings. “Oh, fuck, we should take polyjuice potion. I doubt many people look twice around here at robes, since this part of Egypt is PACKED with wizards, but seeing as neither of us is supposed to be here.” He trailed off, fumbling under his robes for a flask. “This is yours for the time we’re in Egypt. Two swallows will be enough.”

 

Harry drank deeply from the flask, making a face at the bitter potion. He felt himself growing taller, and his hair was shooting into his head. There was a strange tingling sensation in his nose, and as Harry reached up to touch it, he realized that it had grown too. His robes were entirely too short for him now, and he self consciously tried to tug them down to cover his socks. He turned to look at Malfoy, and had to look down to find him. Of course Draco had picked a better looking man for himself, Harry thought. Draco was around the same height as normal, still with light blonde hair. It was longer, though, and hung onto his face. His eyes were a fierce blue, and his nose had changed somehow too. Harry thought that he still looked much like Malfoy, although that could have been the expression on the other man’s face as he surveyed Harry.

 

“That look suits you, Potter,” he said with a mocking grin, and Harry knew he must look awful. He let Malfoy lead them to the coffee shop, though; his stomach was too angry to let him stop and complain. The woman at the front took one look at them and shouted something in Arabic, gesturing at a younger woman. The younger one, a pretty Egyptian girl with a red headscarf on, hurried over to them with a smile.

 

“Welcome,” she said in very good english. “Follow me, please.” She led them to a table with two chairs by the window and gave them menus written in arabic and english.

 

“She speaks well. Everyone we’ve met here speaks english well,” Harry said.

 

“This is a very touristy area, Potter,” Draco drawled. “Probably half the people that come through here speak english.” Harry busied himself with his menu, a little embarrassed. 

 

He ended up ordering a brownie and some flavored coffee drink. Malfoy ordered a scone and a mimosa, much to Harry’s chagrin. 

 

“You can’t drink that,” he hissed. “We’re going into a monster-infested catacomb as soon as we get back.”

 

Draco gave him a lazy smile. “Well, then, you’ll get a chance to save me if we run into any trouble. I know how much you love doing that. My job is to brew potions as we move and distribute them. I can do both of those things after having one alcoholic drink. Not all of us must get trashed every time we indulge.”

 

Harry frowned, but let him have his drink without further comment. The rest of their breakfast passed with little small talk and many awkward silences. Harry was still annoyed, and shortly answered all of his companion’s attempts at conversation. Eventually, Malfoy reminded him, gleefully, again of the night he had been so drunk he had wanted to sleep at his desk, though, and Harry reluctantly forgave him. 

 

“Do you have any muggle money?” Draco hissed as their waitress brought them the bill.

 

Harry cursed under his breath. “Not any Egyptian muggle money.” Draco’s eyes widened.

 

“There are DIFFERENT kinds of muggle money?”

 

“Of course,” Harry said. “Are there not different kinds of wizarding money?”

 

“Bloody hell, Potter, you know nothing! Of course there aren’t. Why would there be different kinds?” Harry shrugged apologetically.

 

“Well what do we do?” Draco looked around them furtively. 

 

“You do nothing. I’ll handle this.” As their waitress returned towards their table, Draco stood up, dragging Harry up with him, and gave her a winning smile. She smiled back, and Draco marched them out of the restaurant as if he owned the place.

 

“How did you do that?” Harry asked awestruck.

 

“My charms and natural good looks,” Draco answered with a smile. “And I obliviated her.” Harry rolled his eyes, but chose not to comment. He was hungry enough to have felt almost moral had he done the same thing. “We’d better get back. Dragons and sphinxes await.”

 

“Are dragons native to Egypt?”

 

“Well I’m sure some are. I’m far too unlucky for us to not run into a dragon.” Draco extended his hand again, an eyebrow raised at Harry. This time, Harry took it without hesitation, trying to ignore the pulsing warmth emanating from where he made contact with Draco. 

 

Once again, Malfoy let go of his hand as soon as they arrived, briskly walking into the tomb. Harry found himself having to duck his head slightly to avoid brushing it against the entrance to the tomb.

 

“I am sorry, but there are no visitors allowed in this tomb today,” Medo said hurriedly, trying to push them out of the first chamber.

 

“Said, it’s Potter and Malfoy,” Malfoy said impatiently, brushing the fat man’s hands off of him.

 

“Oh,” Medo said, relieved. He turned to Harry. “That is an excellent polyjuice potion, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

“I’m Harry,” Harry replied, bemused. 

 

“Right, well, if you two are ready to go, we shall get moving. Haroon just returned as well. Mr. Malfoy, do you have a potion for me as well?” Draco nodded, and produced a flask with an S carved into the side. Harry realized his was emblazoned with a P.

 

“As we move farther into the catacombs, we will not need to continue taking the potion, but occasionally witches and wizards manage to slip in unspotted to the entrances of the catacombs. Usually young ones.” he shook his head. “Cheers, as they say in England.” He took several long gulps from his flask, making a face as if it had been soured milk. Harry watched in fascination as his brown skin paled and became a pasty white. His fat seemed to be sucked into his body through a straw- gathering around a penny-seized area and then disappearing. By the time his transformation was complete, he looked a little like Arthur Weasley. Harry held back a chuckle, and once again wondered who Draco had made him look like.

 

“Right, then, let us depart,” Medo said formally, walking back towards the tomb where Sarah and Haroon waited for them. Farhat gave them a departing smile, and wished them luck as Medo stepped through a small passageway near the corner of the back walls. Harry lit his wand and took a step into the dark. The passage was cooler than the rest of the tomb had been, and morbidly, Harry found himself wondering how old the air was. At least part of it had to be composed of the dead mummies that lived within the catacombs. He shuddered internally and turned his thoughts to something else. They walked in a single-file line with Medo at the front and him directly behind as they walked farther and farther from the safety of the tomb of a long-dead king.


	4. The Sphinx

The corridors were narrow and the air was strangely damp as they proceeded farther into the labyrinth-like catacombs.  Occasionally, a drop of water would fall onto Harry’s head, causing him to wince.  He wondered how somewhere as dry as Egypt could possibly have enough water to contain dripping caves.  Perhaps it had been enchanted that way, to demoralize intruders.  In the dim wand light, Harry could make out strange markings on the walls, hieroglyphs he supposed, that almost seemed to glow out at him sinisterly.  There were some shaped like eyes that even seemed to follow him as he walked.  They had been walking for what felt like close to half an hour when Medo stopped them. The fat Egyptian man cursed under his breath and held a hand out, almost causing Harry to bump into him.

 

“Muggle got in,” he explained, and maximized his wand light so that those behind him could see.  There was a skeleton in front of them with three heads, each twisting around in a different direction.  The curve of its spine was almost S-like, and it was obvious that the muggle must have died in excruciating pain.  There was a pile of dust surrounding the skeleton, but Harry saw a modern watch on his wrist.  With further inspection, he saw an iphone on the ground.  He stared in horror at the entirely decomposed corpse, and wondered how it could possibly have deteriorated so quickly.  

 

Medo began muttering under his breath, moving his wand in strange combinations that didn’t match up with any spells that Harry knew of.  He felt Sarah push past him and join Medo at breaking whatever curse had caused the poor sap who had wandered in here to deteriorate and grow extra heads.  It was fascinating to watch them work.  Clearly, both of them were very experienced, and even though Harry didn’t understand exactly what they were doing, he could feel the power flowing off of the glowing runes they drew in the air.  Finally, Medo lowered his wand, with a weary look at Sarah.

 

“Muggles can sometimes reset curses that have already been broken.  In places very high in magical power, such as this, it is more likely.  I do not know when he entered here, but we have not been back in this area of the catacombs for many months.  That curse will stay deactivated for some time, I hope.  In the meantime, let us press on.”

 

Harry looked behind him to see how the others were taking this. Haroon appeared impassive, as if he had seen things like this hundreds of times before, and maybe he had, in sharp contrast to Draco, who was recognizable now that the polyjuice potion had worn off, who wore his horror clearly on his face, mixed with disgust and fear.  Harry resisted the urge to comfort him.  Malfoy would definitely not appreciated that.  Instead, he turned back to the front.  Sarah stared at him impassively, her harsh features not softened at all in the glow of their wands.  Harry found himself wondering again what her life had been like for her to be so scarred.  She gave him a half-smile, as if she could guess his thoughts, then turned around to follow Medo into the dark.

 

“Do you think there are a lot of those curses down here?”  Malfoy asked in a high pitched voice.  Harry started out of a reverie at the question.  

 

“Err, I don’t know.  Probably.  Why else would so many curse-breakers live in Egypt?”

 

“I was hoping it was because Egypt’s history is interesting.”  Harry grinned a little.  Malfoy was clearly out of his element here, and the sure, cocky man who he had been to breakfast with was completely gone.  

 

“Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’ll protect you from the scary skeletons.”

 

“Oh fuck off, Potter,” Malfoy said, shoving him.  Harry tried to avoid touching the unknown symbols as he fell against the wall.  

 

“There are many such curses.”  Haroon’s voice piped up from behind Harry.  “But we know how to deal with them.  We have been breaking them for centuries.  There is no need to worry, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

“I wasn’t worried, you blithering sarcophagus,” Malfoy retorted angrily.  “I was just wondering.”  They fell into silence as they wandered through the corridors.  The passages had begun to split, and ahead of them, Medo and Sarah were choosing the way, carefully marking the walls every time they branched off.

 

Suddenly, the tunnels opened up in front of them, giving way to a large, well lit room.  Malfoy gripped Harry’s arm suddenly.  The walls were painted gold, with black markings along the ceiling, which curved into a high dome.  Higher than should have been possible for being so far into a cliff-side. At the other end of the room, three wooden doors stood out against the sea of gold, intricately carved and painted with scenes of the Egyptian gods. However, what drew his eyes, and caused Malfoy to grab onto him, was what sat in the center of the room.  

 

At first glance, it appeared to be a lion.  It had the body of a lion, in any case, but larger than any lion had right to be.  A large, tufted tail flicked back and forth behind its golden body, in a hypnotizing fashion.  But the lion’s head was human.  She had long black hair, tamed into two braids on either side of her face.  Her eyes were clearly Egyptian, slanted upwards in a way that would have been alluring on a human.  Her lips were large and red, and grinning at the intrusive party as they entered.  Harry recognized her as a sphinx, although this one was far larger than the one he had faced during the triwizard tournament.

 

“Guardian,” Haroon said, bowing deeply before the creature.  Harry followed suit, dragging Malfoy with him and keeping his eyes locked on the sphinx as though he were taming a hippogryph. The Sphinx’s smile widened and she extended her head towards them.

 

“You do not look like thieves,” she said in a soft sultry voice.  “You look like ministry.  I do not always eat ministry.”  Malfoy’s grip on Harry tightened, and he felt nails digging into his arm.

 

“We are ministry,” Haroon explained.  “We search for one who commits great evil in this holy place.  One that may threaten you as well.”

 

“I may have seen this one,” the Sphinx said slowly.  “They came seeking a way out and carried no stolen treasure.”

 

“Will you tell us which way they went, Guardian?”   
  


“If you can answer my riddle.”  Her tone was mischievous and menacing all at once as she folded her front paws together and sunk down onto them.

 

“We will hear you riddle,” Sarah called, her wand by her side, twitching towards the direction of the sphinx.

 

“If you remain silent, I will let you return the way you came.  If you answer correctly, I will tell you what I know and let you pass through one door.  If you do not answer correctly, well,” she smiled at them pleasantly, cleaning her claws against one another.  

 

“My riddle is thus: 

_ Firstly, this is a word that the vain most love,  _

_ what they see in the lake when their face lies above.  _

_ Next, What has no mouths but still has six faces,  _

_ twenty-one eyes, blind and in different places?   _

_ Last, I abbreviate something essential to life,  _

_ my one branch forms a ‘V’ and eleven hydrogens I am rife.   _

_ All together, I encompass castles and kings,  _

_ tell me the answer and away you shall wing. _ ”

 

The group pulled back to form a circle. 

 

“The first word is me,” Sarah said certainly, and Harry found himself agreeing with her.

  
“Yes, what of the others? Six faces?” Medo asked, face pulled up in concentration.

 

“Well,” Sarah said slowly.  “Essential to life with eleven Hydrogens.  That’s a chemical.  Does anyone know any chemistry?” They all shook their heads.   _ Brilliant, _ he thought to himself.

 

“Six faces,” Haroon mused.  “How many dots does a die have?”   
  


“Brilliant!” Sarah said, giving him a rare smile.  “So we have ‘medie’.  And we miss the last word that forms another word.  What was the last clue?”

 

“Castles and kings,” Harry said slowly.  “Medieval?” Medo clapped him on the back, and Haroon and Sarah looked impressed.  Malfoy’s worried face appeared a little less tense.

 

“Yes! Excellent, Harry,” Haroon said, a broad grin on his face.

 

“Guardian, the answer is Medieval,” Medo said confidently.  The Sphinx smiled at them again.

 

“Well reasoned.  Your target took the middle path, but the right path will take you to the same place more quickly.  He was here yesterday, so I can not say where he will be today.”  She stood onto her magnificent legs, and stepped to the side of the room so they could pass.  As Draco walked by her, she snapped her white teeth together playfully, and Harry felt the grip on his arm tighten to an almost painful level.  Although strangely, he found he did not mind much.

 

They walked through the door on the right, with the goddess Isis painted on the front, and found themselves back in the dark once more.

 

“Potter, that was excellent,” Sarah said in a solemn voice. 

 

Harry grinned sheepishly.  “I’ve been spending a lot of time with a friend who is actually good at riddles.”  He thanked his lucky stars that Hermione had gone through a riddle phase lately, and that he had retained some knowledge of the basic logic.

 

“For once I may be glad I have the famous scarhead here to save me,” Draco whispered so that only Harry could hear him, and Harry felt a flush of warmth run through him at Draco’s words.  The taller man still hadn’t let go of his grip on Harry, although he had loosened it to a more manageable level.  Harry felt himself placing  a hand on top of Draco’s and squeezing it, although he wasn’t exactly sure why.    He released it quickly, just in case Malfoy was in a hexing mood.

 

Harry shivered in spite of himself as they carried on.  The underground tunnels were becoming colder the farther in they managed to get.  He found himself wishing for one of Hermione’s fires in a jar to have with him.  His feet were numb and his hands were cold; Malfoy’s hand on his arm was the only thing keeping him from freezing it seemed.  When they entered another larger chamber, mercifully Sphinx-less this time, Medo called a break for lunch.  He handed out sandwiches from his backpack along with bottles of water, and they all sat along the edge of the round, gold room. Medo and Haroon were muttering to each other in arabic, probably deep in conversation about Egyptian history, and Sarah seemed content to sit by herself, closing her eyes as she ate.  With no other options, Harry took a seat next to Malfoy, who gave him a haughty nod, as if he hadn’t been gripping Harry’s arm in fear all afternoon.

 

“Where do you suppose we’ll sleep?” Harry asked, fumbling around for something to talk about.

 

“The dragon’s lair of course,” Malfoy drawled, a model of complete relaxation except for his hands, which gripped his sandwich hard enough to bruise the bread and turn his knuckles white.  

 

“Malfoy, have you ever seen a sphinx before?”  Harry was curious.  He had only seen one because of the Triwizard Tournament, and he realized that they may not be common enough for most wizards to have seen them.

 

“No,” Malfoy said shortly, with furrowed eyebrows.  After a moment he continued reluctantly, “I’ve seen pictures, but they’re bigger in real life.  And the way she looked at me.  As if she wanted to devour me.” The blond man shuddered and fell silent.

 

“I nearly wet myself the first one I met.  They feel the need to threaten you to make you more likely to mess up their riddles, I bet.  I got lucky both times I’ve seen them now.”

 

Malfoy sneered.  “You didn’t get lucky, Potter, you knew what you were doing.  You were trained for this.  Don’t try to make me feel better.”

 

Harry raised his hands in surrender.  “I’m not! I mean it.  I’ve never had to deal with a Sphinx in an uncontrolled area before and I was probably as terrified as you-”

 

“I wasn’t bloody scared, Potter.  Just, startled.  That’s all.  And if you were a competent auror, you wouldn’t have even been startled.  I brew potions.  The most dangerous creatures I have to deal with are live beetles.  What’s your excuse?” Harry leaned away, a little stung.

 

“I got us out of there, didn’t I?” Malfoy grunted and returned to his sandwich.  Sighing, Harry stood and moved to sit by Sarah instead.

 

She opened her eyes as he approached and surveyed him neutrally.  

 

“Hello,” he said in his most friendly tone.

 

“Hello, Mr. Potter.  Troubles with Malfoy?”

 

Harry sighed frustratedly.  “No, he’s just a bit of a git.  I can only take so much of him, you know.”

 

“I know,” she replied, closing her eyes again.

 

“What made you decide to come here?” Harry asked politely.

 

“I lived in Egypt as a curse-breaker for most of my twenties and half of my thirties,” she replied amiably.  “I suppose I missed it after a while.  It has quite a charm that I haven’t felt anywhere else.”

 

“How long have you been a curse-breaker? What is the training like?”

 

“The training is brutal,” she said bluntly.  “They only allow the best of the best to complete it, for good reason.  Life expectancy as a code-breaker is lower than most professions in our world.  We train for three years, facing every kind of beast or spell imaginable.  Then we apprentice for another year and take your vows to live under the Curse-Breaker’s Code.  I started when I was sixteen, fresh out of Ilvermorny.  I worked with the code-breakers in America for a while, mostly at the Great Arches in Utah.  When I was twenty-three, I came out here looking for adventure, which I certainly found.  And then I retired to a desk job as a head curse-breaker with the MACUSA.  I’m getting too old for adventure.”  

 

“What is the Curse-Breaker’s Code?” Harry asked, fascinated.

 

“A set of laws we must abide by,” she explained carefully.  “Curse-Breakers of all nationalities must follow the same laws so that we don’t set anything in motion that we can’t control.”

  
Harry had a million more questions.  He had never really talked with a curse-breaker before, and he had had no idea the field was so interesting.  He wanted to ask more, but Medo was already getting them on their feet to continue their trek.  Resolving to ask her later, he fell back in line behind her, with Draco at his back again.  


	5. Legilimens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter changes the rating from T to E! There is filthy Drarry smut in this chapter.

The rest of the day passed in monotony, aside from a few muggles. One of them had appeared to have been mummified, and stared at Harry with three wide eye-sockets, sunk into dusty brown remains of skin. Harry had a difficult time burning that from his memory, and the empty places where the eyes should have been seemed to follow him as he moved further into the catacombs. The other muggle was stricken with three heads, as the first they found had been, but this one’s arms appeared to be flippers. The bones where its hands should have been were oddly fused together, ending in gentle points. Malfoy had watched the discovery of both impassively, as though unwilling to show any more signs of weakness. 

After a few hours of continuous walking, they arrived at another large, golden room, this one with a flat, lower ceiling. Medo and Sarah paced the edge of the room, muttering. Sarah cursed loudly, stopping at a place near the door. Medo hurried over to her, and they muttered to each other for a moment before breaking apart.

“There is a strong curse blocking entry into the next tunnels,” Medo explained. “It will take us many hours to break. We shall sleep here for the night. Haroon, please prepare the dinner. Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to brew us some essence of dittany, just as a precaution.” Malfoy nodded, and pulled a small cauldron from his bag, along with several sprigs of a plant with small round leaves and a silvery substance. Haroon busied himself with the preparations for their meal, so Harry found himself walking over to Malfoy once more.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the silvery substance. Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry, but gave him an almost friendly smirk.

“That, Potter, is crystallized unicorn hair. If you had paid any attention in potions your last two years, you would have realized that it is a very large part of most healing potions. Not to mention, it takes on the qualities of what it is exposed to. Making it very useful for distillations, such as that of dittany.” Malfoy shot a stream of water into his cauldron with his wand, and lit a fire under it. Harry watched as the blond man’s thin, well-shaped fingers tore the leaves off of the stem of the plant, and discarded the stems with a flourish.

“I listened in potions,” he protested. “I just hated it, so I forgot it all as quickly as I could.”

Malfoy’s grin broadened as he crushed the leaves with a stone into a bowl. “Well you may want to remember portions of it. Potion crafting can be useful for aurors, I hear.” 

Harry, feeling a little guilty, moved closer to Malfoy. “Alright. Will you show me what you’re doing?”

“This is the useful part of the plant. Dittany leaves.” Malfoy gestured to the leaves and the liquid he had extracted from them. “It contains healing properties that are useful even in an unaltered state. What we want to do with the essence of dittany is to extract the components containing those properties, and distill them into a concentrated form, so that the properties are more powerful.” 

Pointing at the now boiling water, he continued, “We will place the leaves and unicorn hair into the hot water and boil off the excess liquid so that only the strongest essences of the plant remain. Thus, the ‘essence’ of dittany. It’s a relatively simple potion.” Harry marveled at the return of Draco’s confidence. Perhaps dark, creature-infested catacombs were an environment unsuited for Malfoys, but the man was clearly a master at his craft, and quite at home while creating potions.

“Right,” Harry replied, trying to look as though he understood everything that Draco had said. “And you add the stems in later?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “No, Potter, we throw the stems away. They’re nearly as useless as you are for potions.”

“I seem to remember outranking you in potions our sixth year,” Harry retorted.

“Only because you bloody cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat, I used different instructions.”

“Right, and the Chosen One should be allowed to use better instructions of course. More than the rest of us peons deserve.” Harry felt a rush of anger hit him at Malfoy’s words, but as he met the man’s gaze, he felt it dissipate. Malfoy had that smirk on his smug face again, but his eyes were burning with something that Harry couldn’t quite place. There was only a thin ring of silver around his huge black pupils, and a hand was twitching by his side. Harry realized that Malfoy was actually enjoying their banter. And, to his shock, he found himself enjoying it again as well.

“A truly skilled potion-maker would be able to adjust his own instructions to better suit the potion,” Harry replied loftily. “I merely leaned on the experience of a great Potion’s Master to craft my potions. You should have known to do the same.”

“Well,” Malfoy began, leaning forward to whisper in Harry’s ear. “What will you do when you’re all alone chasing a dark wizard and you have no one else’s experience to help you craft a potion that you desperately need?” Harry felt a shiver run through him at the closeness of Malfoy. Warm breath hit his neck, and a strong surge of desire filled him. He wanted Malfoy closer, on top of him, kissing him- he brushed his thoughts away as hurriedly as he could, cursing himself for being so affected. 

Hoping the bulge at the front of his robes wasn’t too visible, Harry gulped and tried to regain his composure as Malfoy leaned away again, a pleased smirk on his face. “I’ll just make sure to bring plenty of potions along with me, then, and not meddle with the fate of having to brew my own.”

“And that’s why you need me,” Malfoy replied, his eyes boring into Harry’s for a moment before turning back to his potion. 

“If you insist,” Harry conceded, trying to will himself soft again.

“I always do, Scarhead.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was a jovial affair for their party. Harry and Haroon cast a dome of protective spells around the group, and because Medo and Sarah seemed sure that no one would be able to enter their room with the current curses in place, a bottle of firewhiskey was produced to be served along with the stew. Haroon was quickly a few drinks in, and was unsuccessfully trying to woo the stoic American woman.

“Do you speak Arabic, Sarah? You lived in Egypt for years, you must. 'Ant jamilat mithl alshshams.”   
Sarah gave him a small smile and replied with something that Harry didn’t understand. Haroon looked disappointed, but did not give up. He moved to sit next to her, and Sarah frowned, turning to speak to Medo instead. Harry leaned back, enjoying the spectacle and feeling the warmth of the firewhiskey spread from his core to his limbs. 

“Another,” Draco commanded, pouring a drink for each of them. Haroon quickly downed his, and returned to his hunt, sloppily throwing out compliments in arabic at the unamused curse-breaker. Medo, who wasn’t drinking, rescued Sarah as gracefully as he could.

“He is not used to drinking,” he explained apologetically. “Haroon was raised Muslim, as was I, but he is not halal. He drinks too much and embarrasses himself. I will occupy him.” 

Sarah turned back to Harry and Malfoy, her cheeks slightly flushed. “So,” she slurred, clearly drunker than them. “How long have you guys known each other?”

“Um,” Harry said, turning to Draco for input, “I dunno. Thirteen years or so?”

“Ah,” she said, an uncharacteristic smile on her face. “That explains why you have such complicated thoughts about each other.” Malfoy shot a glance at Harry, uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked confused.

“Well, you want Malfoy to fuck you but you think he’s an arrogant asshole most of the time,” she said with a hiccup. Harry couldn’t tear his horrified gaze from her. “And Malfoy wants to fuck you, but he’s a bit jealous of you and how everyone loves you.”

“You’re a drunkard,” Malfoy laughed nervously. 

“A drunk legilimens,” she replied with a cackle. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

“Well, I for one could use another drink,” Harry gulped. “Malfoy?” 

The blond man nodded, appraising Harry as though through new eyes. Hands shaking as he poured out two shots of firewhiskey, Harry thought about what Sarah had said. Of course it was very possible that she was only drunk and jumping to conclusions, but she had been right about Harry. Could Malfoy like fucking other men? He handed Malfoy a glass, and Malfoy’s hand lingered a little too long on his own.

“You are a bloody git you know,” Harry muttered, trying to diffuse the strange tension that lay between them.

Draco inclined his head slightly, and took the shot, grimacing slightly. “And you’re a noble savior with a hero complex.” He stood up, placing his empty glass on the floor as he approached Harry.

“I do not have a hero complex,” Harry defended. The room was spinning slightly, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Malfoy’s presence causing it. Malfoy was only about six inches away from him now, his eyes dark again. He looked curiously at Harry as he extended a hand towards him, letting it rest behind Harry’s neck. 

“As much of a git as I am,” Malfoy said softly, “You still want me to fuck you. So I’d cut down on the insults if I were you, Potter.” With that, Malfoy leaned forward, closing the gap between them to meet Harry’s lips with his own. Malfoy’s lips were rough and needy against Harry’s, kissing him in a ragged rhythm that Harry found himself matching easily. Malfoy was warm against him, pulling their bodies together by Harry’s neck. Overcome with desire, Harry moaned against Malfoy’s lips, which only encouraged the other man, who grabbed his hips roughly and dragged them to meet his own. Suddenly, Malfoy pulled away, a wide smirk on his face. 

“We’re giving the others quite a show, Potter. Perhaps we should give ourselves a little more privacy.” Draco conjured some sort of a tent over them, and cast a few spells to muffle the noise. Then he turned to stare at Harry hungrily. Harry found that he felt like the prey of a great predator, and to his shock, he realized that he didn’t mind. 

“I think the Chosen One needs someone to keep him in his place.” Malfoy stalked back towards Harry, closing the distance between them in steps. He gripped Harry’s hair, forcing Harry’s head up to meet his gaze. “What do you think, Potter?”

The prideful part of Harry wanted to tell Malfoy to fuck off, that he didn’t need anything keeping him in his place, but another part of him, a more primal, needy part, didn’t want to. “Fuck off, Malfoy,” he muttered unconvincingly, staring up into Draco’s eyes pleadingly.

Malfoy tutted, keeping his grip on Harry’s hair. “Just as I feared. We’ll have to bring that down a notch indeed.” He leaned forward to kiss Harry again, gripping his hair painfully as he pushed the shorter man to the floor. Suddenly, Draco was on top of him, pinning him down in a kiss. Harry started to struggle, but Malfoy was stronger than he was, and he gave up, giving in to the man above him, relishing how quickly Malfoy had subdued him. He let Malfoy pull his robes off roughly, shoving them to the side as he removed his own as well. The tall, blond man pulled him onto his knees, and stood. Harry stared at the cock in front of his face. It was long, and on the thinner side, like everything about the man, framed by straight, fair blond hair. Harry winced at his own achingly hard dick, begging to be touched, but ignored it as he took Malfoy’s cock into his mouth. 

Malfoy moaned as Harry’s hot tongue met the head of his cock, thrusting forward into Harry’s mouth. Harry struggled to take all of Malfoy in his mouth, choking as he thrust his face into the blond man’s crotch. His hair was in Malfoy’s grasp again, holding his head in place as Draco began his own thrusts into Harry’s mouth, moaning at the sensations as Harry choked every thrust. Harry felt a sharp pain as Malfoy pulled him back onto the ground by his hair, forcing him onto his stomach. 

“Have you done this before, Potter?” Malfoy panted as he cast lubricating spells onto his hand and began to stroke his own long cock. Harry could do nothing but nod, consumed by desire for his childhood enemy. Draco grinned and slid a finger into him, causing Harry to gasp at the sudden cold inside him. Another finger soon met the first, and Harry’s gasps turned into groans of pleasure as Malfoy’s fingers curved up to hit a spot that made his back arch. At the addition of a third finger, Harry felt himself cry out in pain, stretching beyond what he usually felt. 

“Shh, be a good boy and take it, Potter, it’ll feel good in a second.” Harry twitched, humiliated, as Malfoy rammed his fingers in and out of his ass, occasionally hitting the spot that made him moan. Draco had been right, and the pain soon turned to pleasure. Harry found himself pushing back against Malfoy’s hand to take as much pleasure as he could get. His cock was painfully hard, rubbing against the floor of the tent. Soon, he felt a cock replace the fingers, pushing up against the entrance of his ass until it gave way for him in a burning stretch. 

Malfoy let Harry adjust to the new feeling for a moment, then began thrusting in short, hard thrusts. Malfoy was grunting above him, forcing his cock even deeper into Harry. Harry screamed in surprise as Malfoy’s cock hit his prostate hard, causing a surge of heat to Harry’s own dick. He reached down for his cock as Malfoy thrust into him, gripping it hard. Moaning and pleading, Harry begged Draco for more, which the Slytherin obligingly gave him, fucking him hard and fast until Harry could barely breathe. He had a flash of white-hot pleasure hit him, making him cry out as he came onto the tent floor, shaking. Malfoy let out a low moan as he joined Harry, cock twitching as it released its seed into the dark-haired man. Harry lay panting under him for a moment, and felt empty as Draco pulled out of him and fell onto the ground beside him. 

When he awoke the next morning, Malfoy was still there, naked and in all his glory on the floor of the hastily conjured sex tent.


	6. Black Waters

Harry awoke the next morning instinctively pulling the person next to him into his arms.  He was enjoying the warmth of his companion and the soft tickling of hair against his face when he remembered that the man next to him was Draco Malfoy.  With a gasp of surprise, Harry jumped away and landed on his feet, staring in horror at the man who had shagged him all night.  Malfoy rolled over to face him, and met his gaze with a lazy smirk.

 

“Morning, Potter.”

 

“Err- morning, Malfoy,” Harry said uncomfortably.  “Where are the others?”

 

“They’re in their tents, same as us.  It’s only about five in the morning, so they may still be asleep.”  He looked Harry over with that stupid smirk on his face.  “Your hair looks even worse than usual.”

 

“I think I have you to thank for that,” Harry said, wincing as he ran a hand through his hair and found it full of knots.  Malfoy inclined his head with a smile.  “So, err, that was an interesting night.”

 

“I hadn’t figured you for a fag, Potter.  If I had, I’d have fucked you years ago.”

 

“I’m not a fag,” Harry replied indignantly, “I’m bisexual.  And you were far too much of a prat in school for me to ever have wanted to fuck you.”  That last part was a lie, of course.  Harry had had many fantasies of hate-sex with Draco after particularly heated quidditch matches.  It was somehow related to Malfoy’s hair all sweaty and plastered around his face, rather than its usual slicked back style that had driven Harry mad.

 

“I think all gay men said they were bisexual once.  And like you were any better.  With your arrogant pretentiousness, strutting about as if your moral high ground was impeccable.  Half the school hated you, Potter, they just didn’t say it to your face.”

 

“I AM bisexual,” Harry protested.  “Sod off, Malfoy.”

 

Malfoy held up his hands in mock surrender.  “Whatever the chosen one says.  You didn’t seem very bisexual last night.”

 

“I was drunk,” Harry said, irritated.  “What happened last night was a stupid, drunken mistake. We need to be focused on finding the Grindelwald copy-cat, not shagging each other senseless.”

 

“Right.”  Malfoy smirked, moving the blanket to reveal his morning wood. Harry stared at it, enthralled.  He realized that he was hard too, perhaps he had been the whole time he was berating Malfoy.  Apparently even without the alcohol, the mere sight of Malfoy’s pale naked body was enough to overcome his better instincts.  He hesitated for a moment, his eyes eagerly running over Malfoy’s thin body, and returning to meet Malfoy’s challenging gaze.  

 

“Think of it as stress relief.  So that you can hunt your dark wizard and I can brew my potions better.”  Harry rolled his eyes, but nonetheless felt the last of his resolve crumble as he returned to the bed where Malfoy was waiting for him.  It was even better sober.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

An hour or so later, they emerged from their tent in fresh robes.  Harry was blushing and noticed that Malfoy still had on that infuriating smirk of his.  Shagging Harry had clearly brought out the stupid git that still lurked in Draco Malfoy.  His smug glances made Harry more and more angry, but he kept his mouth firmly shut as they collapsed the tent and put it into the extendable bag.  

 

The mood was subdued that morning.  Medo seemed to be having a difficult time looking at Harry and Malfoy, and Haroon was far too hungover to even notice them.  Sarah stoically helped everyone pack, not mentioning anything about the past night, but Harry could have sworn he saw her wink at him as she handed him a granola bar.  Once they had finished packing up, Sarah and Medo worked out the final curses on the doorway and led them back into the darker passageways.  Harry fervently hoped that Medo hadn’t noticed what he and Draco had been up to the last night, but judging by his awkwardness this morning he probably had.  A thick feeling of shame rushed through him as he considered the thoughtlessness of his actions.  Medo was probably horrified, given his background. 

 

Sarah, who was leading the pack today, suddenly stopped.  There was a dead end ahead of them, and Harry groaned internally.

 

“Did you choose the wrong way?” Haroon asked.

 

“No,” Sarah said shortly, cursing under her breath.  She raised her wand, and muttered a quick string of incantations.  As she did so, ancient-looking markings appeared on the walls, glowing in a strange green light.  “I wish that Farhat was here.  She would be able to read these better than any of us.  But a loose translation is ‘A sacrifice is required to pass through me.  The pure blood of a wizard must be spilt on this stone.’ I’m not a pureblood.”

 

Draco’s smirk was long gone by now, and the long look of weary apprehension that had clung to him throughout their journey through the catacombs was back.  “I am,” he said, his voice a little unsteady.  “What does that mean? Pure blood spilt on the stone?”

 

“Not much,” Medo assured him.  “We shall only cut the palm of your hand a little.”

 

“Why there?” 

 

“It’s the most powerful place on a wizard’s body,” Sarah explained. “It’s where magic is channelled from.  That is why wands are made the way they are.”  Draco nodded, looking a little green.  He moved forward until he was close enough to reach out and touch the large black stone that blocked their way. 

 

He extended his palm towards Sarah, his hand shaking a little.  Sarah pulled a long, obsidian knife from a sheath at her side, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what else she was hiding under her robes.  She took Malfoy’s hand in her own, and with her left hand slid the knife across his hand.  Malfoy flinched and turned his head away.  The cut was clean and shallow, Harry noticed, but it was bleeding excessively nonetheless.  Sarah gently pressed his hand up against the rock, causing the symbols to glow red and smoke for a moment. Then the wall disintegrated, pieces of black, smooth stone clattering around them on the stone floor.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Medo said solemnly as they followed Sarah into the next room.  There were torches on the wall of this room, and it looked like some of the other large circular rooms that they had passed the previous day.  There was a large painting across the wall on one side of the room, of a winged woman, with kind, heavily made up eyes.  Her hair was long and black, with a golden crown upon her head, and she was dressed in an elaborate white dress, holding a large symbol in one hand that resembled an ankh with downturned arms.  She was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen, and he was surprised at how well preserved the painting was.

 

“Isis,” Haroon said softly.  “She is an Egyptian goddess.  Sister and wife to Osiris.  She protects those who enter the otherworld.  We near the deepest parts of the catacombs when Isis is seen more frequently.”  Harry glanced at Malfoy and was alarmed to find him rather pale, the wound on his hand bleeding freely.

 

“Do you need dittany?” he asked, concerned.  Malfoy shook his head.

 

“It won’t work on a blood sacrifice wound.  I’ll have to let it heal the muggle way.” He looked disgusted at the thought.

 

“Well, let me wrap it then,” Harry said, unsure why he wanted to help the stubborn Malfoy who clearly didn’t want help.  To his surprise, Malfoy agreed, so Harry rummaged through his bag to locate the bandages. While Medo and Haroon started to put together lunch, Sarah sat against the wall smoking from a long, thin pipe.  Harry wrapped Malfoy’s hand gently, trying to avoid looking at the others’ curious stares as he did so.

 

“Thank you,” Malfoy said with a grimace.  Harry stared at him in shock.  Malfoy never apologized.  Perhaps the man had changed as he’d grown older.  Haroon cleared his throat, and offered them the sandwiches he was holding.  Harry thanked him and sat by Sarah, who was filling the small room with smoke now, to eat.

 

“Want a drag?” she asked, offering him the pipe.

 

“No-thank you.  Did you get a sandwich?”  Sarah held up her own sandwich from her lap to show him.

 

“I’ll eat in a minute.  I needed a smoke.  It’s been a few days.” The harsh smell of tobacco hit Harry’s nose, and he coughed a little.  “Sorry.  If it’s bothering you I could go back into the corridors.”

 

“No, I don’t mind.  Smells like London.”  Sarah gave him an almost smile, the scars on her face contorting as she did so like a horrifying mask. 

 

“There’s less smoke in the States these days.  Nothing like Egyptian pipes, though.  One of the things I’ve missed most about this country.”

 

“Why did you leave?”  Harry asked curiously.  Sarah sighed a little, blowing a ring of smoke towards the ceiling.  

 

“I had a few too many close calls.  I lived on the rush of close calls for a while, when I was younger, but I was getting old.  When the MACUSA made me a very generous offer for a desk job position, several years in a row, eventually I caved.  Death had grown too fond of following me, and if living a few more years meant that I had to give up the job I loved, then I was willing to do it.  But gods, I missed this.  Although this trip has been very tame so far.”

 

“Tame?  What with the sphinxes and the curses and blood sacrifice?”  Sarah laughed in a grating, low way.

 

“Oh my dear Potter.  You may have faced the Dark Lord and won, but besides that, you have no idea what real danger is.  You’re too young, and trapped as an auror.”  She gestured to the scars on her face.  “Magical creatures and ancient curses can often do more damage than a dark wizard.  The ancient world is more deadly than the law-abiding times we live in.  Morals have grown far more rigid in the last thousand years.  Stay in Egypt for a year or so, then you may start to understand.”  

 

Harry stared at her, in awe again of the weathered Curse-breaker.  He resolved to have a long conversation with Bill Weasley, if the man was still talking to him after Ginny, and pester all of the secrets about curse-breaking from him.  “Don’t tempt me,” he said wryly, and Sarah gave him a slow grating laugh again.  They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched Draco arguing with Haroon about something, the latter throwing up his hands in exasperation after a while. 

 

“Your lover has quite the temper,” Sarah remarked evenly.

 

“He’s not my lover,” Harry replied indignantly.  “But yes, he does.  He can be difficult to get along with for most people.”

 

“He’s interesting.  Complicated.  Draco Malfoy is far more than what he appears to be on the surface, I think.”  Sarah frowned as if trying to decipher the best way to break a curse. Harry nodded, thinking of all of the different sides of Malfoy he’d seen the past few days.

 

“He’s very complicated.  I can’t make out any of what he wants or what I say that will upset him on any given day.  Bloody prat.”  Sarah gave him a grimace that he was beginning to recognize as a smile, which he returned.  He liked Sarah.  She seemed to be the most capable member of the team, and he knew she had stories that would make his toes curl.  And there was a certain charm to her, as well.  A dry humor, and easygoing nature. 

 

“The prats are always the most interesting.”  Sarah stood up, stashing her pipe back into her robes with the knife and Merlin knew what else.  They joined the others at the room’s exit and left the torches behind once more.  After only a few minutes of walking, they arrived at another chamber, this one rectangular and dark even under the light of their wands.  It took Harry a moment to notice that there was no floor.  Instead, a thick black liquid swirled around in a pool in front of them.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked, captivated by the gentle waves.

 

“Black Water,” Medo said, as if that was an explanation.  

 

“It is similar to quicksand,” Haroon explained to Harry and Malfoy.  “But more deadly.  It’s very dangerous to cross.  We shall have to be careful.”

 

“We cross quickly, we do not sink,” Medo said.  “We must run, on flat feet, quickly to the other side, and hope it is not too far.”

 

“Couldn’t we fly?” Draco asked.  

 

“No.”  Sarah’s tone discouraged the desire for Harry to ask more questions, so instead he got in line behind Haroon and watched Sarah bound across the Black Water.  She carried a strange grace for a woman as large as she was, and she soon disappeared into the darkness, hopefully reaching the other side.

  
“Mr. Potter,” Medo asked, gesturing to the waters.  Harry gulped and steadied himself before leaping into the water.   _ One foot, then the other,  _ he told himself.  He wasn’t nearly as graceful as his predecessor, though, and with each step he took he found himself sinking farther into the Black Water.  It clung to him, pulling him down farther and farther until, before he realized what was happening, he was up to his chest in the tar-like substance.  The blackness had grabbed hold of his hands, pulling his arms under and the more he struggled, the farther down it pulled him.  Soon, his face was under, and the water was stealing his breath, taking him completely into its depths.  He struggled and struggled against his bonds, feeling faint as everything went dark. 


	7. Paralysis

Out of the black, Harry vaguely recognized strong arms pulling him from the dark depths of the Black Water.  Some survival instinct apart from his conscious mind made him grab onto the arms, pulling on them hard for some leverage and hope of oxygen.  He gasped hard as the cool air hit his face, clinging onto his rescuer.  Breathing desperately, Harry tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn’t.  It felt like they had been glued shut.  He made out voices above him.

 

“Is he ok? Harry? Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

 

“Back up.  Give him some air.  He’ll be alright.  But I think he swallowed some of it.  Mr.  Malfoy, please get me a bezoar right away.”

 

Someone was pounding on his back, hard heavy thrusts.  He coughed instinctively and felt the tar-like liquid trying to expel itself from his lungs.  

 

“Keep coughing, Harry, that’s it.”  Harry followed the voice’s instructions, not coherent enough to recognize who was speaking.  After a while, he couldn’t even cough anymore, only gasp in vain, trying to get more air into his body.  He felt himself being lowered to the ground, the cold stone hard against his back.  Something small and round was being shoved down his throat and he gagged instinctively as his body tried to reject the rock that could save his life.  A few minutes later, though, his breathing was less ragged, and he felt himself relaxing a little.  He still couldn’t open his eyes, and he felt incredibly disoriented.  Cursing himself for being so stupid as to try to WALK instead of run across the Blackwater, Harry tried to move his fingers, finding that they were apparently paralysed as well.  

 

“Harry?” a worried voice Harry could recognize as Malfoy’s asked. “Can you hear me?  You inhaled some Blackwater.  It contains paralytic compounds.  You may not be able to move for a few more hours.  You’re going to be alright.”

 

“We don’t have a trail for our suspect,” Haroon was saying.  “I think there is a sphinx close to this place.  Or there was a few months ago.  Medo and I should continue, and see if we can find out from her.  We won’t engage with the wizard unless you are with us.  But the more we keep looking, the better chance we have of finding him.”

 

“I will stay with Malfoy and Potter,” Sarah said from directly behind him, and Harry realized that she had been the one to pull him from the Blackwater.  “They may need a curse-breaker.”  

 

“I do not like the idea of splitting up,” Medo said.  “But if you think a few hours may make a difference then we shall.  Send a patronus ahead if you have need of us.”  Harry heard a bit of a commotion as Medo and Haroon gathered their things and exchanged instructions with Sarah, then rustling and heavy footsteps on stone as they started off again down the corridors.

 

“I’m going to set up a perimeter of protective spells around us,” Sarah said, and Harry heard her stalk off.  He felt someone take his hand, and felt a strange flutter in his stomach when he realized that it was Malfoy.

 

“It’ll be alright, Harry,” Malfoy said as though trying to convince himself.  “Sarah pulled you out early.  You just got a few mouth fulls of it.  You’re lucky, you know.  Blackwater is toxic as hell when it’s inhaled.  Bloody hell, Scarhead, you are the luckiest git ever to have walked the earth.  I don’t think that there is anything that could kill you.  Perhaps being the savior of the wizarding world gives you too much plot armor.”  

 

Harry tried to open his mouth to retort, but found to his frustration that his muscles still wouldn’t obey him.  A strangled half moan came from him instead.

 

“Aha,” Malfoy said triumphantly, “I knew you could hear me.  It’s actually rather nice when you can’t talk back.  Maybe I’ll leave you like this for a while.”  Harry grunted in protest, drawing a soft laugh from Malfoy that for once was free of all derision.  

 

“Just kidding, Potter.  Let the bezoar do its work and you’ll be good as new in a few hours.  The paralysis should start to wear off soon.”  Harry heard footsteps returning and suddenly his hand was let go, feeling cold and empty now.  

 

“Is he conscious?”

 

“Yes, just paralysed still.  He growled at me.”

 

“Excellent.  Blackwater can be deadly.  You were quick with that bezoar.  Potter will have you to thank for his life when he awakens.”

 

“And you,” Malfoy insisted fervently, “You pulled him out quickly enough to save him.”

 

“Barely.” Sarah’s tone was grave. “Lucky I saw him go under.  And lucky you didn’t bloody sink when you tried to stop to pull him out.”

 

“I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“Clearly.”  They fell into silence, mercifully, and Harry went back to concentrating on twitching his finger.  He felt it twitch, barely, and inwardly grinned in elation.  There was something terrifying about being trapped in one’s own body.  

 

“Nice one, Potthead,” Malfoy said appreciatively, and Harry had to wonder how closely the blond man had been watching him to notice his finger twitching.  “Soon you may be able to move a whole finger, if you try very hard.”  Harry grunted at him again, and was rewarded with the same laugh and a hand grasping his again.  

 

“Do you have any flesh-eating slug slime in that back of yours?” Sarah asked.

 

“Yes, why do you ask?”

 

“I’ll dilute it with two parts water.  It’ll work to get the Blackwater out of his skin.  May also help him recover faster.”  Draco was silent, so Harry strained his ears to try to deduce what was happening.  He assumed that Sarah was gone again,  because Malfoy’s hand was moving down his arm now, onto his chest.  He felt his heartbeat quicken, and knew Malfoy would too.  Suddenly there was warm breath against his ear, and a tongue darting at his neck.

 

“The sooner you can move again, the sooner we can fuck, Potter.”  There was a surge of blood to his groin as his cock sprung to attention.  Apparently that wasn’t paralysed.  The hand slowly moved down his chest, resting on his inner thigh teasingly.  How far away could Sarah have gone? Malfoy lightly rested the palm of his hand on Harry’s dick, causing a rush of pleasure to run through Harry, a low groan escaping between his lips. Just as quickly as the hand appeared, though, it was gone, and Harry felt it back on his hand again.  

 

“I’m glad you don’t have a problem waiting.  If you would have said something, I would have kept going.” Harry could hear the smirk in Draco’s voice, but helpless as he was couldn’t respond.  He twitched his finger again, and was delighted to find that he could move it a little farther now.  A few minutes later, he heard Sarah returning.

 

“Here.  You’ll have to take his clothes off and spread this all over.  Not that you’ll mind May smell disgusting, but it’ll get the job done.  I’ll give you lot some privacy.”  Harry heard a rush of fabric that seemed to move upwards, then footsteps moving away.  Malfoy’s arms lifted his torso up, sliding his robes and shirt over his head.  Malfoy put Harry’s head in his lap, and Harry felt something cold on his face as Malfoy massaged something slimy over his eyelids, moving across his forehead and the rest of his face.  He tried to blink, and found that he was able to open his eyes, though the gel stung a bit.

 

He and Malfoy were in a tent again; he could see the blue fabric above the blond man.  Malfoy’s face looked strained, although it lit up maliciously once he noticed Harry’s eyes were open. 

 

“Morning, Potter,” he said mockingly.  “Nice of you to finally open your eyes.”  Harry groaned in frustration as he tried to push his eyebrows into a scowl.  Malfoy merely smirked and continued rubbing the foul-smelling goo all over his face.  His hands moved down Harry’s neck, squeezing gently, and Harry felt a shiver of anticipation rush through him.  Malfoy moved on to his shoulders, his grey eyes never leaving Harry’s green ones.

 

“I could do whatever I wanted to you right now,” he stated, something hungry in his gaze.  “Anything I wanted, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”  Harry felt his dick growing impossibly harder, straining painfully against his shorts. 

 

“Not that you’d want to stop me, by the looks of it.”  Draco’s hands were on his arms now, gently pulling Harry’s skin against the gel as he moved back towards Harry’s chest.  He rubbed down Harry’s chest, coming tantalizingly close to the waistband of his pants but stopping just short and moving to caress his back instead.  His smirk widened as Harry let out another grunt, wiggling his fingers.

 

“Now now, Potter.  Good things come to those who wait. Patience.  That’s a lesson they never seem to teach Gryffindors.”  Malfoy moved to get above him, gently laying his head down on a pillow.  He straddled Harry, and intertwined his fingers with Harry’s, rubbing the gel on them as he did so.  He ran his hands from Harry’s chest down to his hips again, pressing harder this time.  Harry let out a gasp unconsciously as Malfoy removed his shorts, letting his cock spring free and hit his stomach, begging to be touched.  Of course, Malfoy ignored it.

 

“Well it looks like one part of you can move. We won’t focus on that, will we?  Let’s get the rest of you moving again.”  Malfoy massaged his upper thighs, carefully avoiding Harry’s swollen balls.  Harry strained his eyes trying to watch as Malfoy went lower, squeezing his ass gently and running his hands along the backs of Harry’s upper legs.  Harry made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and Malfoy looked up concerned.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked seriously.  Harry tried to shake his head, but found that he still couldn’t.  He wiggled his fingers, hoping Malfoy would get the idea.  “Err-Blink twice if you don’t want me to stop?”  Harry blinked twice, gratefully.

 

“I should have asked before I started.  Sorry, Potter.”  Harry rolled his eyes to the sky and Malfoy chuckled, returning to his task.  Before long, Harry’s legs were fully slimed and tingling at Malfoy’s touch like the rest of his body.  Harry had regained enough motor control to move his torso jerkily now, and he thrust pathetically into the air, begging for Malfoy’s touch.  Malfoy sat back, watching him with a grin.  

 

“You’re getting some control back, Potter! That’s a good sign.  Keep moving.  I promise I’ll fuck you when you’re mobile.”  He sniffed for a moment and grimaced.  “When you’re mobile and smell less like shit.” Harry struggled with his fingers for a moment, then managed to raise his hand enough to flip Malfoy off.  The other man chuckled.  

 

After another half hour, Harry had regained enough control to speak and move his arms.  He had never been more grateful to be able to talk before.

 

“Malfoy, you tosser.  I was telling you to keep going.  Why’d you stop?”

 

Malfoy looked down at him innocently, yet somehow with an evil gleam in his eyes.  “You were incapacitated.  It wouldn’t be right.”

 

“Oh fuck you, and fuck incapacitated.  I can talk now.  Come fuck me.”  Malfoy gave a world-weary sigh, and began vanishing the slime from Harry’s naked body.  He leaned forward, letting his lips meet Harry’s softly.  Then he drew back to whisper in Harry’s ear.

 

“You’re going to have to ask more nicely than that, Potter.”  Malfoy kissed him again, harder this time, and Harry let his tongue into his mouth, moaning slightly at the contact.  Malfoy pulled away suddenly, looking expectant.  Harry grimaced.

 

“Please fuck me?”  Malfoy considered, tilting his head to the side.

 

“I suppose that will do for now.” Without any further teasing, Malfoy conjured some lube and reached his hand in between Harry’s legs.  Harry gasped as Malfoy pushed inside of him, loosening him with two fingers.  The mix of pain and pleasure quickly turned to pure pleasure as Malfoy slowly thrust his fingers in and out of him.  After a few minutes, Draco added  a third finger, gently scissoring him open.  He curled his fingers upwards, hitting a spot that made Harry cry out. Still fucking Harry with one hand, Draco undressed himself slowly with the other.

 

Malfoy had somehow managed to get all of his clothing off and he stroked his cock as his fingers moved in Harry, spreading something shiny on his already stiff member.  He let out a moan, and the sound of Draco pleasuring himself made Harry’s cock twitch with longing. He tried to lift his arms, to make Draco fuck him, but found that they were still mostly paralysed at his side, unable to do much more than jolt slightly up and down.  

 

After what seemed like a lifetime to Harry,  Draco finally spread Harry’s legs, throwing them over his shoulders.  He slowly pulled his fingers out of Harry, causing a low whine from the other man.  Smirking, Malfoy stroked himself a few more times, then slid into Harry, groaning at the sudden tightness.  Harry grunted, in pain and pleasure as Draco slid the whole length of his dick inside him.  Malfoy leaned down to kiss him as he began to thrust, slowly at first but gradually faster as Harry got used to him.  Harry could barely concentrate on kissing the Slytherin with all of the sensations bombarding his ass.  

 

Draco was thrusting hard and fast now, the position allowing him to go even deeper than he had the night before.  His lips attacked Harry’s roughly as he took him.  Harry moaned into his mouth, the pain completely gone now, as Draco’s cock stroked something deep inside him that led him closer and closer to the edge.  Malfoy grabbed Harry’s dick, pulling it furiously as though about to tear it off, but at the contact on his sensitive, aching cock, Harry found himself unable to hold back any longer and he came hard onto Malfoy’s hand.  Malfoy gave a few more thrusts, desperate for the friction of Harry, and took his pleasure, moaning lewdly as he released his seed into Harry.  

 

They lay panting on the ground for a moment, recovering.  Draco turned to look at Harry, a grin containing a hint of his previous worry on his face.

 

“Was that what you wanted?”  Harry nodded, too out of breath to respond.“Can you move yet, Potter?”  

 

Harry lifted an arm experimentally.  “A little.  I think sex was the medicine I was missing.”  

 

“My cock has been known to have healing powers.”

 

“Thank you, by the way,” Harry said more seriously.

 

“For fucking your brains out?”

 

“For the bezoar.  And that, err, slime thing.  You probably saved my life.”

 

Malfoy waved a hand.  “That’s what I’m here to do.  Look after you idiotic adventurers as you carelessly traipse through the most dangerous ancient burial site of all time.”

 

“Well thank you anyways.”  Malfoy nodded, smile gone.

  
“Now we’re even.”


	8. Chapter 8

Harry frowned at Malfoy.  “We never weren’t even.  You saved my life when you wouldn’t tell your Aunt it was me that night at your Manor.”

 

“And then you bloody saved me twice after that.  Not to mention you saving my skin first year in the forest.”

 

“I didn’t save you first year.  You ran away, you twit.”  Something dark crossed Malfoy’s face at that.  Something that, if Harry hadn’t known better, might have been shame.

 

“I shouldn’t have ran.  But it doesn’t matter, Potter.  I did horrible things in the name of self preservation, and I would do them again if I had to.  You did honorable things in the name of a greater cause and I’m sure you wouldn’t take them back either.  We both did what we felt we had to do.  The war is far over now, and we have both pay the price for the things we did.  I’m one step closer to being out of your debt.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.  “You’re not in my debt, Malfoy.  You were in far worse circumstances than I ever was and you kept yourself and your family safe.  I don’t fault you for that anymore.” 

 

Malfoy sighed dramatically.  “Thank Merlin, the Chosen Potter has absolved me.  Do you have any more  movement back?”   
  


Harry pushed himself up into a seated position and was surprised to find that he could stay up by himself.  “Much more.  I reckon I’ll be able to walk again in another hour, or thereabout.”

 

“Excellent.  Let’s get you dressed so Gardner can have a look and see how you’re doing.”

 

“Nice of her to give us some privacy,” Harry mused.

 

“I doubt she wanted me to fuck you right in front of her.  Which is what would have happened, you know, had she stuck around.”  Malfoy’s tone held a playful tint that Harry was beginning to notice more and more.  The blond man helped hold Harry up with strong arms as Harry fumbled with his clothing, managing to get it all back on.  When he’d finished, he leaned against Malfoy again, slightly out of breath, and was surprised to feel an arm wrapping around him, holding him in place.  Harry lay his head against Malfoy’s chest for a moment, feeling the pounding of a heart against his ear and a strange sort of comfort in the half embrace.  Pulling away, Harry felt a flush creep into his cheeks involuntarily.

 

“Errm, we should go find Sarah.”  Malfoy nodded and stood, picking up Harry as though he weighed no more than a kitten.  Harry let out a sound of protest at being scooped up like a child.

 

“Back to wordless grunts are we, Potter?  I always knew Gryffindors had more neanderthal in them than the rest of us,” Malfoy said in amusement.  “Don’t whine.  It’d take us ages to get anywhere if I let you try to walk.” 

 

“Just get me outside, Malfoy.”

 

Malfoy ducked down to carry Harry through the tent flap and back into the dim passageway. Sarah was waiting for them a few feet away, perched on the ground with her wand behind her ear and her pipe in her mouth.  She blew a ring of smoke into the air as they approached, watching it dissipate as it floated upwards.  

 

“The invalid returns,” she said wryly, taking another puff from her pipe.  “Did you, err, fix him up at all, Malfoy?”

 

“I did my best.  He’s still mostly useless but I think there’s hope for the future.”

 

“I’m much better,” Harry said, shooting a glare at Malfoy.  “Thank you, Sarah.  For saving my life.”

 

“Someone has to keep the Chosen One alive, Mr. Potter.” She let out a thick stream of smoke, closing her eyes.  “You’re welcome.  How much mobility do you have?”

“Much more now.  I haven’t tried to stand yet but I can sit up and move my arms pretty well.”   
  


“Good,” she said, standing with an easy agility.  “The more you move the more quickly you’ll regain mobility.  Let’s get you standing.”

 

She took Harry from Malfoy easily, and Harry felt even more like a child in her arms than he had in Malfoy’s.  Carefully, Sarah lowered his feet to the ground, not letting go of his upper body.  She allowed more weight to fall onto his feet gradually, until he felt his legs buckle. 

 

“You’re recovering fairly quickly, which is good.  I think that we need to keep moving. Said and Almasi might end up need us.  Said sent a patronus and he’s disabled the curses up to where they’re at.  They answered the Sphinx’s riddle, so with any luck it’ll let us through too.  We should be able to catch them by the end of the day if we hurry.”

 

“I’ll carry the cripple.”

 

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

 

“Again, Potter?”  Harry scowled as Draco picked him up again.  Sarah put the tent away, her lips twitching as if they’d like to smile.  She led the way into the labyrinth, where the sphinx stood in the center of the next room.  This one had beads braided into her elaborate hair, and looked bored as they approached.  Harry didn’t know enough about sphinxes to be sure, but he suspected she was younger than the other one.  Sarah headed down the middle of three paths, staring steadily ahead, and the sphinx made no move to stop her.  She gave Harry a wink as Draco followed Sarah into the passageway, and Harry hurriedly turned forwards again so as not to accidentally incite her wrath.  

 

Despite his indignation, Harry found himself growing comfortable in Malfoy’s steady hold.  Malfoy’s arms were sure, and strong, and Harry felt safer than he had the entire time they had been running aimlessly through the labyrinth.  He closed his eyes as he gently jostled through the maze, and dared to let himself doze off.  A bright light and the sound of a raised voice woke him, and he struggled out of Draco’s grasp blearily to see what was happening.  He was happy to find that his motor skills had returned, and he could stand on his own again.  

 

His happiness was short lived, however, as he saw the two bodies on the ground in front of them.  Sarah was running towards one of them, shouting out spells, or damnations or something in between.  Malfoy and Harry rushed towards the other, barely recognizable as Medo.  There were deep slashes in his skin, oozing with a dark red blood, and the man wasn’t breathing.  Draco pulled a flask from his robes and began to pour it on the wounds, while Harry stood aghast, trying to think of something to help.  The potion slid off of the large Egyptian’s body like water on oil, and Draco turned to Harry with hopeless eyes.

 

“He’s dead.  Haroon?”  Harry ran to Sarah’s side. The witch was moving her wand rapidly and Harry was relieved to see that Haroon’s wounds weren’t as bad as Medo’s had been.  Draco appeared beside him, pouring the potion onto the man and chanting something indecipherable.  Helplessly, Harry watched the two work, wishing for more medical experience.  Sarah turned towards him, sweat pouring down her face.

 

“He’ll live.  Send a patronus for backup.” Quickly, Harry, still numb with shock, sent off his patronus to Fatima.  When he turned back to Haroon, he noticed something about the shape of the wounds.  The symbol of the Deathly Hallows was clear in the contrast of red on brown.  The same pattern was visible on Medo.  

 

“How did he overpower them both?” Harry asked no one.  “How did this happen?”  The others ignored him, focusing on their victim.  Harry sat down against the wall, feeling useless as he watched them work.  When Fatima arrived with two men Harry didn’t know, he lept to his feet.

 

Fatima ran to her cousin, and the men turned to Harry.

 

“What happened?”  

 

“I don’t know.  We were behind them, and walked into this.”

 

“We’ll take him back to the surface.  Find who did this,” the man said commandingly.

 

“We need backup.  Clearly this is a skilled dark wizard,” Harry protested.

 

“Almasi will go with you.  No one else can be told or the wizarding world will be thrown into widespread panic.”

 

“The wizarding world SHOULD be thrown into widespread panic.  You’ll have four more deaths on your hands if you don’t send anyone else.”

 

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Potter,” the man said tightly.  “We expect you to handle this matter with the delicacy the situation requires.”  A moment later, Haroon, Medo, and both of the men were gone, and the four that remained stared at each other in disbelief.

 

“They’re not sending backup?” Harry asked Fatima.  She shook her head bitterly.

 

“They don’t want to tell anyone else what is happening.  They think there will be riots in the streets if the people find out there may be another Dark Lord.  And they think the Chosen One can handle it.”

 

Malfoy scoffed.  “Your government’s incompetence is legendary.”  Fatima shrugged angrily, not disagreeing.

 

“Did you learn anything from the runes?” Sarah asked gently.

 

“Yes,” Fatima replied, eager for a distraction from her cousin’s plight.  “It was a blood magic ritual.  Whoever did this is taking the strength from the lives of others.  Ancient Dark Magic, mixed with a ritual that appears to be their own with Grindelwald’s sign.  The sign of the Deathly Hallows.  They are trying to prolong life and extend their power.  By now, they may be very dangerous.”

 

“And they leave us alone to deal with him.  Bloody excellent.  How do fight him?” Harry asked.

 

“This kind of ritual will be short lasting,” Fatima said slowly.  “He’ll only be stronger for a few days.  Blood magic is susceptible to fire.  When we come across him, fire spells might be our best option.” Harry turned to Draco, who looked angrier than he’d ever seen the other man.

 

“Don’t suppose you have any kind of potion that wards off blood mages?”  

 

“No,” Malfoy said shortly.  “But I have several poisons for those bloody ministry hags once we get out of this.”

 

“How did he overpower Medo?” Harry asked again.

 

“Likely with blood magic and surprise,” Sarah said wryly.  “Even the best of curse-breakers can be surprised.  He was a good man.  I’ll miss him.”  Harry lowered his head, thinking of the fallen man he’d hardly known who had made his way onto the list of those Harry had failed to save.  

 

“We have to catch this fucking bastard quickly.  Before he does this to anyone else.”  The others nodded solemnly.  “Sarah, you go first, since she’s the only curse-breaker.  Draco and Fatima have the least fighting experience so they’ll go next.  I’ll take up the back, in case we’re ambushed from behind.  If anyone sees anything, try not to draw attention to yourselves unless you’re sure it’s what we’re looking for.”

 

The grey cloud of Medo Said’s death hung over them as they prepared to continue on.  No one spoke.  Even the wandlight seemed subdued.  The dark corridors that had been beginning to feel like home closed around him until he felt that he could barely breathe.  Although he had barely known the man, Harry grieved Medo’s death silently as he walked, wishing he had spoken more with the experienced curse-breaker.  When they found the next body, a kind of cold anger replaced the sadness, and Harry found himself wishing for revenge almost as much as he’d wanted it on Voldemort.  

 

The lovely form of a sphinx lay curled upon the floor, head resting on her paws as though she were sleeping.  The blood puddled around her ruined the illusion.  On the stone wall above her, written in blood, was a cruel mockery of a sphinx’s riddle.

 

_ I am loud and silent _

_ I take a million different forms _

_ Those who have me no longer fear me _

_ But those that do not see my shadow in everything _

_ No one has mastered me _

_ But one among you could have _

_ What am I? _

_ Come and find me, Chosen One. _

 

“Death,” Malfoy stated.

 

“Death,” Harry agreed.  “This bloody lunatic thinks he is death.”

 

Sarah muttered a spell.  “She’s been dead for a little over an hour.  We’re getting close.”

 

“Good,” Harry said calmly.  “If any of you want to turn back, I won’t hold it against you.  This would be the time to do it.”

  
Sarah smiled grimly.  “This is the part of the job that I signed up for, Potter.  If you think you’re keeping me out of this, you’ll have to fight me first.”  Harry returned her smile.  He looked at the others, and found Fatima looking determined.  Malfoy didn’t  shake or sneer, or look afraid as he normally did.  He just looked angry.  Harry nodded, more to himself than his companions, and they carried on.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry stepped past the sphinx’s body gingerly, trying to avoid looking at her.  The next passageway was smaller than the ones before it, and he found himself crouching slightly as he walked to avoid hitting his head.  It was damper too.  The dry air of Egypt seemed unable to reach this far into the catacombs, and every so often a drop of condensation would fall from the ceiling onto his head.  Draco walked in front of him, nearly bent over in half.  The group moved quickly now, driven by a need for revenge.  

 

Expelliarmus would not cut it this time, Harry knew.  He ran through a list of defensive spells in his mind, trying to remember everything that would help him keep his companions safe from the psychotic wizard trapped with them underground.  The dreadful anticipation was something he wasn’t used to.  He was used to being the hunted, and as a hunter he found that he had far too much time to think about what he would do when he found his prey.  The situation seemed far more real now that two of his companions had been attacked, leaving one dead.  

 

As lost in his thoughts as he was, Harry ran into Malfoy who had slowed down in front of him.  Murmuring an apology, he blinked as the bright lights from the open room hit his eyes hard.  Harry looked around warily, but his party was alone in the room.  Hieroglyphs covered the walls, as he was growing used to, but this room was different.  There were no open doorways leading further into the tombs.  Instead, there were four huge stones covering the wall opposite him.  Sarah was studying them intently, eyebrows furrowed together.  Fatima appeared to be reading the hieroglyphs, mouthing words silently as she stared at the rocks.  She was the first to speak.

 

“More blood magic,” she explained.  Her voice was calm but her face held a cold anger in it that made Harry look away from her.  “Behind each of these doors is a different tomb.  We have reached some of the oldest graves in the catacombs.  To enter into any one of them, blood must be spilt on the stone.  This is not the way these tombs were built.”  

 

The defaced tombs seemed to anger the small scholar more even than Haroon’s attack had.  Harry scrutinized the four entrances closely, but found that they looked identical to him.

 

“What one do we choose?” he asked, looking to the two women.

 

“This one,” Sarah and Fatima said, pointing to one of the middle doors.  Fatima explained, “The runes above it are new.  And concern death.”

 

“They contain fresh human blood,” Sarah added.  “This was intentionally obvious.   He’ll be expecting us.”

 

“Well then let’s give him what he wants,” Harry said, facing the huge black rock.  It was strangely polished, smooth enough for him to see his face staring back at him.  Draco was behind him, looking a little apprehensive.

 

“There’s a curse on it,” Sarah said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder to stop him from doing anything stupid.  “If anyone’s blood spills on the obsidian now, they’ll be killed.  Give me a few minutes.”

 

“Right,” Harry said, cursing himself for not suspecting a curse.  Malfoy pulled him aside looking nervous.

 

“Potter,” he began quietly, furtively checking to see if the others were listening.  “We could both die in here, you know.”

 

Harry’s heart sank slightly as he thought about it.  They could both die.   Until now, he had been fueled by his adrenaline and anger, but stopping to think about the actual danger they faced brought him back to reality.  He stared into Malfoy’s grey eyes, wanting desperately to kiss him. 

 

“We could,” he finally replied.

 

“I-I” Draco looked embarrassed as he stuttered.  “Just so you know, Potter.  I’m glad that we had this time.  Together.  No matter what happens now.”

 

Harry mustered up a small grin. “So emotional, Draco.”

 

The other man scowled at him.  Harry pulled him into a tight embrace, wishing Fatima wasn’t there so he could kiss him.  His heart pounded against Malfoy’s chest, feeling louder than usual.  He broke the embrace and looked up at Draco.  As much as he hated to admit it, Harry was afraid.  He was afraid for Fatima, the brave woman who was far more of a translator than a fighter.  He was afraid for Sarah, the calm, battle-worn cursebreaker who had gotten them this far, and for himself, even though he’d been close to death many times.  But most of all, he was afraid for Draco.  He frowned at this realization, wondering why he cared so much about a childhood enemy whom he had only shagged a few times.  

 

“Alright there, Scarhead?”  Malfoy asked.  Somehow the smirk was back.

 

“Alright,” Harry replied.  “Try not to do anything stupid in there?”

 

“I’ll do my best.”  There was nothing more to say after that.  Harry studied the taller man’s face, committing it to memory.  If there had to be someone who didn’t make it out, Harry was determined to make it himself.  

 

“Ready?” Sarah asked the group.  Reluctantly, Harry tore his eyes from Malfoy’s face.

 

“Ready,” he said. Fatima and Draco echoed him.  He walked back to the obsidian stone, and slashed his palm open with his wand.  The flash of pain seemed to steady him, holding him to the present and sharpening his reflexes.  The stone began to dissolve as drops of Harry’s blood hit it, vanishing into the air.  A burst of green light flew through one of the holes, and Harry barely ducked in time.

 

“He’s there,” Harry shouted, “Get behind me!”  He didn’t look to see if the others were listening, there was nothing that mattered but flashes of light flying from the darkness in front of him.  He deflected them as quickly as he could, dimly aware of someone beside him doing the same.  Harry cast stunning curse after stunning curse, but the wizard in the darkness managed to avoid them all, and the spells kept coming.  After the first flash of green, none of the other curses seemed to be aimed to kill them.  Some part of Harry realized that the wizard intended to use him and his companions for his blood magic and he shuddered internally.

 

“We have you cornered,” he yelled into the void, “Come peacefully and we won’t kill you.”  He cast sectumsempra wordlessly, hoping that something would stop the flurry of spells.  A high-pitched, screeching laugh tinkled through the doorway.  It was animal-like, insane and sent shivers down his spine. Then the laugh turned to a song.  A beautiful song that hurt his soul and awakened it at the same time.  The words weren’t human.  The foreign sound pierced through to his heart and for the second time in two days he found himself unable to move.  From the corners of his eyes, Harry could see that his companions were in a similar state.  The flashes of light had stopped, and footsteps echoed through the corridor.

 

Out of the darkness, a woman appeared, in sapphire blue robes.  She was heart-breakingly beautiful.  Long curls of brown hair fell nearly to her knees, and her skin was a flawless cinnamon.  Her eyes, a light grey that reminded him of Draco, seemed to gloat from her face as she surveyed them, still singing.  She snapped her fingers and Harry found himself completely paralyzed.  The singing stopped and terror hit him hard.  They were all going to die.

 

“So this is the Chosen One,” she mused in an accent he couldn’t place, red lips falling into a tight-lipped smile.  “You’ve done a very good job looking for me these past few days.  I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you succeeded.”  Her smile widened, revealing her pointed teeth, far too sharp to be human. Harry tried to speak, to do what he wasn’t sure.  Beg for his life?  Let his companions be spared?  His teeth seemed to be glued together and all the sound he could make was a wordless grunt.

 

“Had I known they’d send Harry Potter to try to stop me, I would have done this years ago.  Your blood will be strong.”  She turned to look over his companions.  “What a feast I’ve found for myself today.  Where should I start?  Potter will be last of course.”  

 

She paced between his companions, falling out of his line of sight.

 

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?  I like pretty girls.”  That horrible laugh came again.  Harry could hear her moving again, laugh growing louder.  “Mmmm you look like you’ve bled before. I always hate it when I’m not someone’s first.”  The footsteps clacked on.  

 

“What do we have here?  I’ve always had a thing for blondes.  Yes, you’ll do very nicely.”  Harry struggled against his invisible bonds with a new found desperation, but only managed to knock himself over, falling face-first onto the cold stone.  He felt his nose break, warm blood pouring against his face.  The woman returned, kneeling beside his face.

 

“Oh, how rude of me.  Mr. Potter, you like to watch.  Tsk tsk, naughty boy.”  Harry felt arms far stronger than they should be rolling him over until he was facing Draco.  Anger pounded through his head, his vision turning red as he struggled futilely.  Draco stood stoically, statue still with his wand out in front of his face as the woman approached him, circling him like a lioness.  She stood to his side and pulled out a long, intricate knife that glistened in the light.   

 

“Where to start, where to start?” she mused, gently stroking Malfoy’s hair.  “I know, we’ll start with your face.  There’s something about your eyes that just… they’ll have to go.”

 

Harry tried to move, with everything that he had.  But to his shock, the woman suddenly burst into flames.  She screamed in pain, pulling at her hair, grabbing her head as she was incinerated.  She fell to her knees, and Harry found himself able to move again.  The fire was out, and the creature stunned and bound by the time he could blink, with Malfoy and Sarah standing over her.  He met Draco’s eyes in confusion.

 

“Thank Merlin I still had my wand out,” Draco said shakily.  

 

“What was that?” Harry asked them, heart still pounding.

 

“Siren,” Sarah explained, kicking their captive.  “A siren with a wand.  I’ve never heard of that happening before.  We were fucking lucky Malfoy thinks on his feet.  Well done.”

 

Draco nodded, paler than usual.  “Do sirens normally do blood magic?” Harry asked.

 

“No, not usually at all.  I’ll say it again.  We were fucking lucky.  This easily could have ended poorly.” 

 

“We must get out of here,” Fatima said, looking around nervously.  “We did what we were here to do.  And she’ll wake up soon.”  Sarah cast a silencing charm on the siren.  

 

“Yes, let’s get out of here.”  She led the way back the way they had come, levitating their prisoner in front of her.  Harry fell in line behind Malfoy, and found his hand unconsciously gripping Draco’s shoulder.

 

“Hey Potter.”

 

“What?”

 

“NOW we’re even.”   
  


“You stupid git,” Harry said fondly.  “Thank you. For saving my life.”

  
“About time I returned the favor,” Draco replied.  Harry could hear the grin in his voice, and squeezed his shoulder harder as he followed Draco towards the sun.


End file.
